Gold Dust
by Child-OTKW
Summary: Naruto learned hate young. Learned it through the dark looks and disdain from everyone around her. Learned it through the taunts of the other children and the sting of the matron's hand on her cheek. Learned it like the blood that sat at the back of her throat when she bit her tongue to contain the fire inside her. FemNaruto. Canon Divergence.
1. Chapter One

**I'm tentatively giving Naruto another shot. I used to write in this fandom years ago but backed out a while ago for a number of reasons.**

**This will be a re-imaging of what Naruto would have been like if he had been born a girl. If you've been on my tumblr you might have seen me mention writing a femNaruto story a little while ago. Well this is it. The pairing is still undecided - but I'm saying it now that it will **_**not**_** be Sasuke/Naruto. I have nothing against the pairing itself - in fact I adore it - but I want their relationship to be strictly platonic for this story.**

**Also, be aware that I'll be playing fast and loose with the canon lore of Naruto. I'll be altering a lot of stuff in this story, so it won't be what some might call 'faithful'. But hey, that's what fanfiction is for so ¯\\_(****ツ****)_/**

**Anyway, hope you guys enjoy this!**

* * *

She was a small thing, all flailing limbs and warbling cries, and Sarutobi had never felt older than in the moment when he first saw her; Minato and Kushina slumped in the dirt beside her shaking form.

He approached with heavy steps, the scene from mere moments ago still playing before his eyes. The chaos that had torn through his home still echoed in his head.

He plucked the child from her place, his heart aching at how light she was, even as his eyes caught sight of the seal that was delicately, intricately marking her stomach. It was a work of beauty, even he could tell that, and Sarutobi could only close his eyes, tuck her into his chest to shield her from the cold night, and try and suffer through the terrible pride and bitter sorrow that grew inside him.

Minato was gone—he had known that from the moment the fox had vanished. But Kushina was not. Not yet.

Her young face was etched in pain, and something precious in her eyes was broken as she looked at him.

Sarutobi wanted to beg her, to demand that she live for her daughter and not leave the child alone in this cruel world. But he knew it would do nothing.

So instead, he knelt before her, bowed his head at her whispered plea, and felt hot tears burn his eyes at the name that fell from her bloodied lips.

**OoO**

Naruto Uzumaki was orphaned hours after her birth, amidst the flaming ruins of a village, with the blood of her parents painting her skin and a monster raging inside her.

**OoO**

"What are you going to do?"

Sarutobi leaned back in his chair, watching the boy across from him with unconcealed sympathy.

Kakashi wasn't even looking at him. His entire being was fixated on the baby in his arms; and had been since he had laid eyes on her.

He was the first to hold her after Sarutobi—the only one he trusted with the girl right now, beyond himself. And the sight they made was overwhelming in its tragedy.

They had both lost much tonight, and Sarutobi wasn't sure who he pitied more.

The boy whose mentor was now gone, the last of his clobbered-together family finally ripped from him. Or the little girl who would never know her parents, who would never experience their unbridled love for her.

"She has to be protected." Sarutobi said, voice low so as to avoid awakening the child. She was resting peacefully, but she had been difficult to settle; almost as if she already knew exactly what had been taken from her this night. "Not only as a jinchuuriki, but as Minato's daughter. She is—too valuable. We have to keep her safe from those who would seek to harm her."

It was subtle, but he knew the boy understood what he was implying from the way his fingers dug just a little deeper in the faded orange blanket wrapped around the baby. Naruto had to be protected from all threats, both external and, most importantly, _internal._

Kakashi's head remained turned down towards the child, and as Sarutobi watched, the boy gently swayed his hand back and forth, his forefinger caught in the grasp of the girl's tiny fist.

"What's her name?" Kakashi asked softly, his focus pinned to those small fingers curled around his own.

"Naruto. Naruto Uzumaki. Kushina named her before she passed."

The grief on the boy's face was as sharp as a blade's edge. "Uzumaki. Not Namikaze." He muttered to himself. "That might not be enough. Everyone—everyone knows who he married. It won't take a genius to put it together, especially with her hair. Blonde isn't exactly common here, not this shade."

Sarutobi sighed, and the hole in his chest seemed to widen. "I know, but there is little I can do. I won't—" he paused, searching for the words, "I will not take them from her. Not completely. She deserves something, some piece of them, no matter how small."

Kakashi nodded, though the movement was sluggish, weighed down. "What about Minato's family? If they find out about this, they might try to claim her."

Sarutobi frowned at that, knowing there was some truth to the boy's concerns. "Minato relinquished all ties to them when he became a shinobi of our village. It was his wish—his and Kushina's—that Naruto be raised here, as a citizen of Konoha. I intend to honour that." He twisted his head to look out the window of the office. _His office,_ once again.

There was a brief lull, then, "They might not see it that way. Our treaty with them is a farce, we all know it. If they find out and try to push the issue—"

"They will not." Sarutobi cut him off, tone harsher than he had meant it to be. "Kumo will have no say over Naruto's life. She is of Konoha, and it is here she shall remain. Her connection to Minato does not outweigh her status as the Kyuubi's jinchuuriki. Kumo will be risking war if they attempt anything, which they can hardly afford at this time."

Kakashi was silent. Sarutobi turned back to him expectantly. "You disagree."

The boy finally gave him his attention, mismatched eyes blazing. "I think Naruto is a vulnerable baby that holds the strongest bijuu in existence, and that alone would make her a prized target for anyone looking to destabilise us. I think Kumo has the right mixture of greed and motive to go for her, and _will, _if they hear even a hint of her parentage." Kakashi looked back down at Naruto.

"They haven't forgotten that Minato was theirs first. They're still bitter about his 'betrayal'. They would jump at the chance to have his only child, Kyuubi or not."

"Then what would you suggest?" There was no scorn in Sarutobi's voice, merely weariness.

Kakashi blinked slowly, shifting so that Naruto was held more securely. "I think she should be prepared for the life she's going to endure."

"You would have me make her into a weapon? Have me take her childhood and innocence from her?" His anger stirred at the suggestion.

Kakashi's shoulders tensed. "No." He snapped, bordering on mutinous before he managed to reign in his own temper. "No. But we can't ignore the fact that she's going to need to know how to defend herself. She's—she needs to be _safe."_

"And she will be." Sarutobi declared with ringing finality. "But I will not abide by turning her into a weapon. I would see her have a normal childhood, to let her grow, before putting her on that path."

Kakashi held himself stiffly, before jerking his head in a nod. "Of course, Lord Hokage."

The title had Sarutobi's eyes sliding shut, hurt from the attack it was meant to be. He had never expected to have it directed at him again, and it felt wrong to hear it and know it was only because his successor had sacrificed everything to save them all.

It _was _wrong. Because Minato had been only twenty-four, and he should have had years left. Years to lead Konoha into a new era, years to enjoy the peace he had fought and bled to bring about—years to spend with his wife and watch their daughter grow into a young woman.

But life wasn't fair. And it certainly wasn't kind.

He forced his eyes open.

"Will you take her?" He asked.

Kakashi froze at the question. The sudden jolt disturbed the child in his arms, and she squirmed, face scrunching in discomfort. The boy shushed her instantly, rocking back and forth until she once again quietened.

Sarutobi studied them, wondering just what Minato would think, seeing his student holding his daughter like she was the most important thing in his life.

"No." Kakashi said, not once looking away from her sweet, slumbering features. "I can't."

"May I ask why?" Sarutobi inquired after a moment, hiding his surprise as best he could. "I am sure there is no one else Kushina and Minato would—"

But Kakashi was shaking his head. "I can't. I'm not…suitable. My duties to the village, they wouldn't allow me the time, and, and it would be suspicious, wouldn't it? The Fourth Hokage's student raising a child that looks like him and bears the surname of his wife? They would know within a week. It wouldn't be a good idea."

Sarutobi tilted his head, seeing the excuses for what they were, hearing the almost desperate note to them. "Kakashi."

The boy's head lowered, his face covered by his hair. His words grew faster, messy, and contradicted the way he held the child so close, curling his body around hers. "I wouldn't be good for her, Lord Hokage. I don't know anything about children. I'd simply end up hurting her. I'd look at her and—I wouldn't be able to not see _them._ She doesn't deserve that. It'd be best for everyone if she never knew me."

He could see the boy grappling with himself, his pain and longing so evident on his face and in his voice. It was more emotion than Sarutobi was used to seeing from him, but given the circumstances, he couldn't blame the boy.

He sighed, disappointed but understanding the choice. Kakashi was still so young, after all, and it was perhaps callous of him to ask such a thing when the loss was so fresh.

When their bodies were still warm, and their skin still flushed with colour.

"Very well." He stepped around the desk and approached carefully. He stopped just before them and held out his arms patiently. "You are dismissed, Kakashi. Give Naruto to me."

Kakashi did not move for a long moment. He stared at the child almost hungrily, and with his headband pushed upwards, Sarutobi noted how his sharingan shone as it ran over his sensei's newborn daughter.

When he did hand her over, his movements were mechanical and stiff, but the fingers he brushed over Naruto's soft hair were as tender as a whispered goodbye.

"I'm sorry." He said. Then, without another word, he flickered away.

Sarutobi gazed down at the child in his arms and sighed again.

**OoO**

The funerals were held a week later.

Sarutobi's voice was steady as he gave his speech. Behind the podium his hands shook, and his knees trembled, weak under the weight of his own grief.

He stood before the crowd, watching as his village lamented the losses—remembering the lives cut too short and the damage dealt to their home.

A black cloud hung above the proceedings, and even the heavens cried with them.

He refused to look at the photos of their fallen. Refused to see his wife's face staring out blankly at him. Refused to see two in particular—to have their eyes pierce him and demand he keep his unspoken promises.

He would protect Naruto. He would keep her safe and alive.

But first he would mourn for his people, mourn for _himself and his son._

_For Biwako._

**OoO**

In the aftermath of the attack—_slaughter, _he should say; anything else implied that they had had a chance—it was difficult to keep track of everything.

Having the leadership of the broken and fragile village thrust back onto him, struggling with the gaping hole his wife had left behind and the shattered glint in Asuma's eyes, beating back the council, and wading through the carnage—all of it left him stretched to breaking point.

He had entrusted Naruto to one of Minato's anbu guards, leaving the child's primary care in the woman's capable hands. He knew she was aware whose child it was, if the reverent way she had held Naruto meant anything.

She would keep Naruto in good health, if only out of respect for her former Hokage. Perhaps with time, Sarutobi could even convince her to be the girl's caregiver, at least until Naruto was of an appropriate age to live alone.

Kakashi wasn't the only option after all. Was not the only person who could raise Minato's child.

The problem was, he realised as the weeks dragged on, that there were far too many options available. Nearly every clan had put forth a request to house Naruto; and while Sarutobi knew the majority were heartfelt in their desire to protect the girl—old friends and subordinates and mentors of her parents—there were some who saw her only for the power she would one day wield.

He wanted to give Naruto a family. He wanted her to grow up loved and loving in return. He wanted her to be surrounded by people who saw her for who she was, not what she contained. He wanted to honour his pledge to her parents.

But the longer the debates drew out, the louder the voices grew and the more aggressive the demands became, he knew that he could not.

He couldn't trust any one of them with the girl, not when there was even the slightest chance that she would be used to further someone's interests.

Naruto was an important piece in the game of the world, and even though it galled and disgusted him to think such things, he had to remember that fact. Jinchuuriki were as much political tools as they were people. Granting one clan precedence over the others would, at best, sow bitterness between his people, and at worse, incite civil war.

There was a reason so few people had protested to Kushina's marriage to Minato, and it mainly stemmed from the fact that the boy was a clanless bastard, born from an unwedded union, that held no ties to his former home. Minato had had no clan-driven loyalties. No temptation to use his wife's status to promote his family's standing.

He had, objectively, been perfect in the council's eyes. And his own position as Sarutobi's successor had merely been a bonus. What better way to keep a jinchuuriki loyal, then to marry her to the Hokage himself?

It was a sickening way to view their relationship, especially considering Sarutobi had witnessed their love for each other firsthand—had seen the way they had gravitated to each other from the beginning, the way they had blossomed together, burning ever-bright in the other's presence.

But it was not something he could ignore.

Naruto, much like her mother before her, was a weapon to the council and the clan heads. To disregard that would be dangerous, and foolish. He had to think like them to keep her free from the mechanisms of the village.

So, to ensure Naruto's safety, he had no choice but to dismiss all offers.

Some took it better than others.

**OoO**

Mikoto Uchiha sat before him, her hands curled into the fabric of her dress, the only physical sign of her distress. Beside her, her eldest son was seated silently, his intelligent eyes watching keenly.

"She is Kushina's." The woman said calmly, staring him in the eyes and daring him to reject her again to her face. "She is the daughter of my closest, dearest friend. You expect me to stand aside while she grows up alone? You expect me to let Kushina's girl grow up never knowing her mother's name? Her family? Her _history?"_

"It is too dangerous, Mikoto. You know this. Both of Naruto's parents had enemies, and their enemies will become hers if her connection to them was publicly known. I am trying to protect her."

"As am I." Mikoto said, the first bite of anger entering her voice. "I am her _godmother._ I have more claim to her than anyone." Her shrewd, dark eyes scanned him. "Lord Jiraiya has not returned, has he? He has refused. Abandoned her."

"Jiraiya is preoccupied with his duties." Sarutobi replied, feeling the need to defend his student, even if he internally agreed. Minato would have been disappointed that his old sensei—his _father _in all the ways that mattered—had left his child alone when she needed him most.

But they were all grieving in their own ways, and Sarutobi could not bring himself to force Jiraiya to return, no more then he could have made Kakashi take Naruto.

Besides, Jiraiya's lifestyle was hardly suited for such a small child. Or any child for that matter.

"He is not here," Mikoto reiterated with satisfaction that was as sharp as her smile, "her godfather is not here to care for her. _I am._ You have no right to stop me."

"I have every right." Sarutobi said, his own voice deepening in warning. "Her parents entrusted her safety to me. I will deem what is best for Naruto."

"It has been months. I have not even seen her with my own eyes, yet." Mikoto told him. "You say that they entrusted her safety to you? Well, they entrusted her happiness to me. Who better to raise her? Her mother and I were close friends. I likely have a better understanding of the Kyuubi and its effects on its host than anyone alive. My clan is wealthy, so she would want for nothing with us. We would love and cherish her, protect her and make sure she is happy."

Sarutobi sighed, longing to close his eyes but knowing that showing any weakness to this woman was the equivalent of handing an enemy a kunai and showing them his back. "Mikoto, you know I cannot accept."

Her rage finally reached her eyes. Her chin rose a fraction. "Is it because she is a jinchuuriki, or because I am an Uchiha?" She asked, bold and fearless as ever.

"Neither." He denied, though they both saw it for the lie it was.

Desperation bled into her features even as the steely glint in her eyes never wavered. "What about a marriage contract?" She asked, throwing the words down like a challenge. Sarutobi blinked in surprise.

"If there was a marriage contact, created between Kushina and myself, would that allow me to care for her?"

He leaned forward, steepling his fingers and frowning thoughtfully. "Between Naruto and young Sasuke?"

Mikoto started to shake her head, her gaze darting to Itachi. His face was tilted up towards her in interest, and Sarutobi had no doubt that the boy understood everything they were saying. "Sasuke, or Itachi. We had always wanted to join our families one day. If Kushina had a girl, we agreed that it would be a good match."

Sarutobi narrowed his eyes sharply. "Naruto is an outsider. The Uchiha are not in the habit of marrying outside the clan. Especially not their heir." His own gaze moved to Itachi, who met his eyes easily and with a solemnity he had expected but still found disheartening. Five, and already far too aware of the horrors of the world.

"There are no rules against marrying outside the clan." Mikoto countered rather fiercely. "Naruto is the daughter of a Hokage, and a descendant of the Uzumaki clan, one of the last of the main branch. Status is not an issue." She reached over and grasped her son's hand tightly.

Sarutobi knew she spoke the truth. The Uzumaki clan was as old as the Uchiha, and with Minato as her father, Naruto would have made a sought-after match for any of the clans.

Mikoto continued, likely sensing his weakening resolve. "Kushina and I decided, and our husbands agreed."

Sarutobi rubbed at his eyes, showing a brief glimpse of his exhaustion. He could see why the match would have been discussed. The joining of an Uzumaki descendant—even if it was a demolished and scattered clan—with one of the Uchiha heirs would have been a powerful move. It would have done wonders in improving the relation between the village and the Uchiha clan; and was surprisingly cunning of Kushina and Minato.

He stared at the woman; one hand braced against his mouth. "Be that as it may, without seeing the contract there is no way I can confirm your words. You do have the contract, yes?"

For the first time, Mikoto faltered. Sarutobi watched her, hating himself just a little for hurting her so. He had no doubt that Mikoto and Kushina had discussed a marriage contract. The two had always been close, ever since their genin days; and Minato and Fugaku, despite everything, were remarkably cordial with each other.

And he could almost _see it._ Could see Naruto joining the Uchiha clan. Could see her married to one of Mikoto's sons, growing and thriving amongst people that loved as violently as they hated.

But without concrete, legally binding documents backing her, there was no way Mikoto could lay claim to Naruto. Not in any manner that the council would accept.

And especially not after the rumours the Kyuubi attack had stirred up. It had only been a handful of months since that night, yet already links were being drawn between the fox and the Uchiha clan. If word got out that they intended to take the new jinchuuriki as one of their own, without the contract as leverage, Sarutobi knew that the simmering suspicions would explode into outright hostility.

"Mikoto?" He prompted gently.

Her shoulders slumped. "We never…not through official channels. We thought—" her eyes watered in a stunning display of sorrow, "we thought we would have plenty of time."

Sarutobi looked away, giving her much needed seconds to regain her composure. "You know I cannot grant your request, Mikoto. Perhaps in the future, when Naruto is older, of marrying age."

She shook her head, "It won't matter." She whispered brokenly. "It won't _matter, _because by then she will have grown up with _no one."_

Sarutobi paused, hand moving to fully cover his lower face and hide the downwards tilt of his mouth. "Right now, things are too unstable to allow anyone to have Naruto."

Her eyes narrowed in offence at his insinuation, but she kept her silence.

"I will not sign her away on a vague promise made between friends. I am sorry."

Rage and dark acceptance warred over her face, before her chin dipped in defeat. "May I at least hold her? Just once?"

Not even he was cruel enough to deny her that.

**OoO**

Hisa allowed them entry with a respectful bow, her brown hair pinned back and her dark eyes watching them closely.

She led them further into the modestly decorated apartment and directed them to stay in an open room with a few comfortable seats while she went to collect Naruto.

Sarutobi stood to the side, letting Mikoto and Itachi settle themselves on the chairs. He had visited a number of times himself in the past months, enjoying the rare moments of tranquillity that the baby provided him with, and tried not to fee guilty each time he left.

He knew Kakashi came regularly as well, both from Hisa's briefings, and his own observations.

A new toy in the crib, a handful of new books on the shelves, a new blanket. All of it spoke of the boy's hovering presence.

Sarutobi never brought it up when he saw Kakashi, in between his missions and whenever he managed to drag himself in for reports; and the boy never mentioned his routine trips, so Sarutobi was content to let him be. Far be it for him to deny Kakashi whatever he got from his late-night visits.

Hisa entered the room again a minute later, her hands securely holding a small form wrapped tightly in a blanket.

Mikoto cried, one of her hands rising to cup her mouth as Hisa brought Naruto closer, bending to allow the Uchiha matriarch her first glimpse of her goddaughter.

Sarutobi turned his head away, idly reading the titles of the books on the wall as Naruto was placed in Mikoto's arms. Hisa came to his side after transferring the baby over, her eyes alert as she periodically glanced back to her ward. "Lord Hokage." She greeted with a polite incline of her head.

"Hisa. How is she faring?"

The front of ice masking her expressions thawed slightly, and something akin to pride gleamed in her eyes. "The young Lady has begun teething, and her speech is taking form—she is quite vocal most nights. As well as that, her spatial awareness is remarkably well-developed for her age." Hisa tilted her head enough to see the others.

"Hello, Naruto." He heard Mikoto breath. When he looked over, she was stroking the girl's cheek tenderly with one finger, staring down at her with adoration and an acute sense of pain. She looked shattered, as if her heart had been dashed across the ground like glass.

After a few minutes of simply holding the girl close, Mikoto called for her son.

Itachi moved closer on the lounge, sitting patiently, eyes studying the baby curiously. "Mother?" The boy asked quietly.

"This is Naruto." Mikoto whispered, brushing the soft blonde hair and pressing a kiss to the girl's brow. "Kushina was her mother. You remember Kushina?"

Itachi nodded once, gaze flickering between his mother and Naruto. "She's alone now." He said with a clarity that was jarring in such a young child. Next to him, Hisa's face tightened.

Mikoto's next breath sounded like it was torn form her. "Yes, my darling. She is." Mikoto looked to her son, smiling despite the tears in her eyes. "Would you like to hold her, Itachi?"

Hisa moved to step forward, a protest on the tip of her tongue, before Sarutobi stopped her. Together, they watched as Mikoto carefully shuffled to her son, moving with the ease of a mother as she deposited the child in Itachi's arms. He held her steadily, hands bracing her correctly.

They all watched as the boy stared down at Naruto. Sarutobi drifted closer, finding the expression on the boy's face intriguing.

Eventually, Itachi looked up at his mother. "She is smaller than Sasuke." He informed her softly.

"She is." Mikoto murmured, her hand still running over the child's scalp. "But she is beautiful, isn't she?" The words were more to herself, but Itachi nodded either way. "Has she started rolling yet?" Mikoto asked without taking her eyes off her son and goddaughter.

Hisa straightened at the question. "She has, Lady Uchiha. I make sure she has adequate time to develop her muscles each day."

Mikoto nodded with a sad little quirk to her lips. "Good. That's good. What do you think, Itachi?" She asked.

"She's…bright." The boy answered after a pause, mulling over his words thoughtfully. Mikoto laughed softly.

"She definitely has her father's hair." She commented with a rueful smile.

Naruto stirred, likely woken by their voices. Mikoto gasped when the girl's eyes peeled open, looking about with interest. "Oh," she said, "she has his eyes, too."

Sarutobi nodded in agreement, even though he prayed on many occasions that the shining blue of Naruto's eyes would darken to her mother's grey, or that her hair would lose some of its vibrancy as she aged. It would lessen the resemblance, at least marginally.

"She's bright." Itachi said again, and Sarutobi raised an eyebrow at the boy, finding it a curious repetition.

"Yes, she is." He echoed, and when Itachi looked up at him, Sarutobi felt like he had misunderstood what the boy had meant.

**OoO**

The council was as intolerable as he remembered, and their demands and politics exhausted him more each passing day. It seemed that everywhere he turned, there was a new problem just waiting to make itself known.

It had been days since he had seen the inside of his house, and Sarutobi could sense the gorge that was slowly tearing itself between himself and Asuma. It felt like he was being pulled in every direction at once, forced to choose between the village and his son, and he couldn't help but think that every decision he made only worsened everything.

The village was crumbling around him, slipping through his fingers like grains of sand.

Whispers had begun to spread through the village, rumours of corruption and treachery circulating in the minds of his people. Sarutobi listened with growing dread, watched as the wheels began to turn, the sparks threatening to ignite—unable to stop the escalating situation.

The bad blood between the clans bubbled forth, and every meeting became a battle as fingers were pointed and accusations thrown like stones.

Sarutobi knew what this would lead to, and they had already suffered too much in the past year for him to risk it.

He reached out to Fugaku and ordered the Uchiha to move to an outer section of the village, hoping that the separation would quell some of the tension.

The Uchiha protested, loudly, viciously, their red eyes burning, their lips twisted with resentment—but they went.

Sarutobi oversaw the relocation personally and hated the approving nods he received from his advisors, hated the satisfaction he could glimpse in their cold, predatory eyes.

They saw it as pre-emptive caution, of putting a stop to a threat that hadn't even appeared yet. Sarutobi saw it as a means of keeping his people from tearing themselves apart. He turned a blind eye to the objections from the Uchiha, focussed instead on the reconstruction of his village and fortifying their defences.

It was, however, incredibly hard to weather a storm when it was already inside the walls.

But he had been raised to never let himself seem weak, even when he was bleeding from the throat. Sarutobi knew things would get better. They just had to persevere.

Because there were more pressing issues than which clan held the most influence.

There was something brewing in the cracks of his village, and Sarutobi could do little more than watch as it grew in strength, clawing its way into the roots of his home and seeping into the very soil of Konoha. He watched, and waited, until it finally made itself known to him in the form of an old friend.

**OoO**

Danzo entered his office one sunny day with a promise like poison on his lips, an offer of aid disguising the blade pressing into the soft flesh of his stomach.

Sarutobi knew a trap when he saw one—knew how this little game between them worked, the rules and pieces playing atop the board between them—and he knew what Danzo wanted. Because he had always understood the necessity for the shadows of their world, even if he had never liked them.

So, he smiled, agreed, watched as Danzo bowed low and mocking, and prepared himself for the next move.

But.

The thing about men like Danzo, was that they were _effective._

Sarutobi sat in the spotlight and pretended not to see the shadows that crept along his walls.

Pretended that each voice that was quietened was merely the result of tireless negotiations and concessions.

Pretended that every complaint seemingly fixed itself overnight.

Pretended that the way his largest contesters were suddenly incapable of meeting his eyes, was because they finally realised that he was the best one suited to leading Konoha right now.

Pretended. Pretended. _Pretended._

**OoO**

The village settled into something like peace in the following year as they painstakingly picked themselves up from the ashes of the Kyuubi's attack.

Buildings were restored. Stores reconstructed. The academy reopened. The missions began to trickle back to them slowly as their reputation was rebuilt brick by brick; customers and clients returning from the other nations they had flocked to.

The weaknesses were still apparent, if one knew where to look, but with the combined efforts of the clans and the strings Danzo so masterfully pulled in the background, Sarutobi knew it was only a matter of time before they broke out into the world, reborn and reforged from their recent crucible.

They couldn't afford to continue limping on, lest they draw the vipers to them.

But as the days turned to weeks, and weeks to months, Sarutobi began to feel more secure as no new threat surfaced.

Naturally, that was when everything fell apart in his hands.

**OoO**

Hisa's body lay crumpled against the far wall, her throat slashed open, blood coating the floor in front of her.

Scattered through the rooms were five other bodies, each wearing similar, unmarked uniforms.

Sarutobi stood in the centre of the chaos, hands behind his back to hide his clenched fists from the prying eyes of the investigators.

His gaze was firmly planted on the blood-splattered orange blanket that was discarded carelessly on the floor of the living room.

It was late, closer to dawn then not, but the blood was still fresh, the corpses not yet rigid. It couldn't have been more than an hour since the assailants had slipped away with their target.

But an hour was more than enough of a window. An hour was a lifetime to any shinobi smart enough to exploit it.

A figure melted into existence at his side, silent and radiating deadly intent. The other shinobi scurrying around the apartment shot uneasy glances in their direction, but none were foolish enough to approach.

Sarutobi turned his head, gazing down at the porcelain mask aimed up at him. The anbu said nothing, though Sarutobi had no doubt that there was anger and blame swirling in those eyes. "Can you track her?" He asked.

The anbu nodded once. "My ninken are hunting them now. They're outside Konoha."

Sarutobi hummed, taking in the room—that blanket—one more time. "Do we know who they are?"

"No." The anbu muttered, voice heavy with dark promises. "But we will."

Sarutobi nodded, "Find them. Bring her home."

The clone dispersed.

**OoO**

As the grey light of the morning began to creep over the village, Sarutobi stared up at the picture of Minato that loomed over him and silently begged for a miracle.

Two hours later, Kakashi Hatake appeared in his office, uniform soaked, white mask splashed with red, hair matted, and a squirming bundle strapped to his chest with the tattered remains of a shirt.

He told Sarutobi in short, clipped sentences who the culprits were—nukenin with no known affiliations with the other main villages—and what they had revealed to him before he despatched them.

Sarutobi did not know from who the information slipped, but it was not something he could ever allow to happen again.

He had made a promise and had very nearly broken it tonight.

It was unacceptable. Naruto was too valuable, too important, too vulnerable.

The very next day, Sarutobi made his decree to the village.

No mention of Naruto's status was to leave their lips.

* * *

**You can pry godmother-Mikoto from my cold dead hands. That woman would have **_**fought**_** to have Naruto under her care and you can't convince me otherwise. As well as that, I read a few interesting stories on AO3 that sparked the idea of Minato originating from Kumo and moving to Konoha before the war broke out. I really liked that idea, since I think it adds another layer to the feud between Minato and the Raikage/Kumo. I know it's not canon, but it's a nice little thing to play with.**

**Let me know your thoughts for this and as always, my ****tumblr**** is open. Thanks!**


	2. Chapter Two

**So hello again everyone - chapter two is ready to go. I'd liked to thank everyone who commented on the last chapter, I'm glad so many people are interested in this story!**

**I did a lot of rewriting on this one until I was satisfied with it, and just wanted to inform everyone that this chapter and the next will be dealing with themes like child abuse in both graphic and non-graphic detail. Naruto didn't have a happy childhood in the canon universe, and I've taken that idea and run with it for this story as well. So for anyone who might have issues with these types of things, please take care.**

**I hope everyone enjoys.**

* * *

Kaya stared down at the bundle in her arms, wrapped securely in a little white blanket, tiny face peeking out from the folds. Her jaw clenched at those blissfully unaware features.

The three anbu guards that had delivered the child to her had already left, slipping like shadows back into the thick trees that surrounded the orphanage. She had scarcely exchanged five words with them—and was glad for it, because she knew what those masks symbolised, and they never failed to make her skin crawl—but the few things they had bothered to say made her sick with rage.

To think that she was expected to house this horrid little beast. To feed and clothe it, to watch the child thrive while their village was still reeling from the attack.

The thing in her arms let out a noise, a soft gurgle, and it snapped her into action.

She carried the child—_monster, murderer, demon_—through the doors of the orphanage, walking fast so as to avoid the inquisitive gazes of the other carers and the children.

She went up the stairs, tucking the blanket firmly around the now-squirming form, not wanting any of them to see; to ask questions, or even know too much about their latest acquisition.

Kaya took the child all the way to the dormitories, deliberately sweeping past the nursery, and coming to a stop by the door at the end of the hallway. It was a supply closet, old and hardly used, only recently repurposed.

She pushed the door open and moved directly to the bed she'd had shoehorned in the room just yesterday, back when she had first been told what she was being forced to care for. She placed the child on the thin mattress and stepped back hurriedly, winding her arms around her waist for some measure of comfort.

Kaya stood over the little figure, trembling from the tide of emotions rising inside her at the mere sight of it. Molten anger and morbid curiosity choked her, and her hands curled into fists.

This was a disgrace. An insult to everything they had suffered.

The orphanage was already filled to the rafters with so many poor children left parentless from that night. So many young ones without anywhere to stay but under her roof—with no one to look after them except her and her staff.

And now, to have the very thing that had caused all their torment living within these walls…

It was beyond dangerous. To have such a being in a place meant for innocent, defenceless _children _was a perversion of the highest order. How the council, or the elders, or the Hokage thought that this was the best option, she had no idea. Why they couldn't just keep the child where it had been for the past months she couldn't understand.

Kaya wondered if any of them had even considered the threat they were unleashing on her home and her wards.

Just watching the child sparked something vicious in her heart, called forth something dark and ugly and depraved; and the flickers of anger in her burst forward into a well of frigid hatred.

It would be better for all of them if the child just starved, a shameful voice in her mind whispered, insidious and far too alluring. If it just withered away, taking that cursed monster with it to the grave, never to taint their lives or village again. Never to reign terror and fire down on their heads.

Never to claim another lot of victims.

After all, what right did it have to sit in her home, to grow and breathe and live when so many others had perished under its claws? How was it fair that her brother—so young and optimistic and happy—had died and yet the thing that killed him survived?

She wanted to sob. To wail and curse and take that small throat and _crush it—_

The thing let out a sharp cry, and Kaya threw herself backwards at the piercing noise. The child looked at her, too alert and aware for its age, with tears flooding down its marked cheeks; and for a heart-wrenching moment Kaya feared that maybe it had heard her thoughts. That it had sensed the black feelings swirling through her head and was reacting.

She started to shake violently, because for all she knew_ it could._

She had no idea what this thing was capable of—no way to defend herself against the evil hiding under its skin, and she had never felt this hopeless before.

But.

Kaya released her next breath slowly, forcing herself to calm. To bury those poisonous thoughts deep inside her. She would not let it win. She refused to let it get to her.

She had a duty to perform. The Hokage himself had asked this of her, and no matter how the child disgusted her, no matter what doubts sat heavy in her gut, she would do as she was bid.

Kaya spun on her heels, marching to the door and closing it behind her. She made sure to lock it properly so that none of the older children accidentally stumbled across it. The last thing she wanted was one of them to get hurt.

She slipped the key into her pocket, heading back to the first floor where the others were no doubt waiting for her.

They had much to discuss, now. New rules to implement. New schedules to draw up. A different evacuation plan, even. Safety measures, contingencies. A complete overhaul.

**OoO**

The following weeks were difficult, filled with uncertainty and anger and a constant cloud of fear that hovered over them all. None of them liked thinking about the child. None of them enjoyed caring for the girl, of wasting their already limited resources on her.

On the days when her exhaustion grew too strong, when she was run into the ground trying to raise, comfort, protect dozens of young ones, Kaya let herself entertain other thoughts.

Like how easy it would have been to forget. To let the knowledge slip from her mind, ignored and unwanted, for even just a day. To let the child upstairs become nothing more than an afterthought.

It would have been such a simple thing—there were so many to watch, after all, too many even with her staff supporting her. It would be easy to explain away, an accident.

_So very, very easy._

If not for the constant visits.

Every month, without fail, one of the Hokage's masked shadows would appear on her doorstep, terrifying whichever carer had the misfortune of opening the door.

They would rarely speak to her, only wait patiently in a side office as she scurried to collect the child from the room she was kept in. Then, after assessing the girl with a perfunctory examination, they would leave without comment. They never asked any questions, only lay green-glowing hands on the child's back, and they never stayed for long.

The visits infuriated her, because for all she understood the necessity of them, it bothered her how much attention they paid the child. There were so many other children that might benefit from such check-ups—she understood little about the medics and their jutsu, but enough to know they could heal even the most dangerous of injuries with a wave of their hands—and yet no matter how often she asked, the masked ninja always denied her.

But there was always a pitch of nervousness as well, whenever those all-seeing hands hovered over the child—because what if something was wrong? Kaya did not neglect the girl's needs, did not dare to, even if she sometimes wanted to indulge the dark thoughts, but the anxiety sat hot in her stomach long after the anbu had left.

However, each month the funds continued to trickle in with no changes, no restrictions or strongly worded reprimands; and as time dragged on, Kaya began to relax into the routine.

Clearly, they saw nothing wrong with her handling of the situation, of the precautions she had put in place to keep her other charges safe. The Hokage must be satisfied with her work.

And it made sense.

She only had to the bare minimum; she had been told at the beginning. She only had to keep the child alive and in relatively good health.

And once she was old enough, she would be taken off Kaya's hands and put in a far more suitable place.

All Kaya had to do was wait until that day came.

**OoO**

But as the months turned to years, and the child started to grow, Kaya felt an ever-present ripple of unease run down her spine whenever she laid eyes on the girl. It was always accompanied by a lingering sour taste on her tongue, a heaviness to the air that made her teeth ache and her lungs struggle to breathe; a faint burn in the backs of her eyes whenever she got a glimpse of that blinding hair or those whiskered cheeks.

Because everything about the child was_ wrong._

She grew too quickly, bypassing crawling entirely, and as soon as she could stand, she was walking, then running—her thin legs pushing her further and further every day, like she was constantly chasing something.

Or how noises, fragmented and broken, fell from her mouth. Unintelligent babble that rolled swiftly into words, then full sentences within a matter of weeks. She took to it all like she had already done it before—less like a newborn experiencing everything for the first time, and more like she was _relearning _skills she had always possessed.

It was disturbing. _She _was disturbing. Odd and freakish and _unnatural_—how the child changed so rapidly, developing too fast, spurred on by something unseen. Collapsing and condensing and ever evolving into something grotesque, so far ahead of the other children for all that she was smaller and younger; each day revealing something new about the thing masquerading as a little girl.

But that was all nothing compared to her eyes.

Because there was a hint of _something _lurking in those blue depths every time Kaya looked into them. Something ancient. Something more. Always bubbling just below the surface, hungry and waiting, like it wanted to devour the entire world.

Kaya saw it.

Saw it in the way the girl just stared at everything, silent and contemplative in a way no child should be. The way those eyes would pierce whoever they fell on, reaching into them without remorse and reading a person's darkest secrets. The way it always felt like two were looking out at her instead of one, that they judged her and found her insignificant.

Kaya saw it all. She knew exactly what it was, and it horrified her.

**OoO**

There were times, though, where the doubt at her. Thoughts slithering in the back of her mind, filled with_ maybes _and _buts _and _what ifs._

Like the days when she walked into the girl's room and found her sitting on her bed, limbs huddled close and with the smallest of frowns on her face.

Or the afternoons when she'd watch from the window as the child walked around the playground alone, gathering handfuls of sticks and rocks, drawing shapes in the dirt and building little towers.

And the nights when she got up to do her rounds and would hear muffled cries leaking out from behind the only locked door on the second floor.

It tore at her, and her hate only increased every time she let those thoughts bloom.

She would not be fooled by the act. She knew the myths, had listened as her mother wove stories of silver tongues and twisting tails in between the ones of war and people with magnificent powers.

Foxes were tricksters.

Foxes lied. Foxes lured. Foxes tempted.

Foxes were capable of many things—and the one that prowled around her home in the form of a little blonde girl was capable of _anything._

Kaya would not fall for the illusion, no matter how convincing it was. Her eyes were her greatest weakness, but the more attention she paid, the closer she looked, the more she began to see just how devious it was.

**OoO**

No one had ever told her what her name was.

But then again, she'd never needed anyone to.

It had always been there for her, drifting in the depths of her mind. A gift she had been given before she could even comprehend its true worth.

Something special that had been taken and burned into her soul.

Because names were powerful. Names were a representation of your very nature. Names _meant everything._

And the being trapped inside the soft confines of her body knew that all too well. Knew how important it was to be named.

To simply _be._

So, it was easy, really, to take the name bestowed on the child and carve it into her core with claws and foxfire. To whisper it into the vast corridors of her mindscape, over and over, until it was as familiar to him as his own; until his mouth knew the shape of those two words better than it knew the taste of air.

Because she was_ his _now, as much as he loathed it—and nothing of his would ever be _nameless._

**OoO**

Naruto realised quickly that she was _different _from the other children.

She saw it in the way people stared at her with something mean in their eyes, the way their gazes scraped against her like needles and knives. She saw it in the way their lips twisted when they spoke to her, if they bothered to speak to her at all—_and how she wished they didn't sometimes, because it felt like the words_ monster_ and _demon _were branded into her skin and she didn't know _why—

But she was different in other ways too.

Hair too bright. Eyes too blue. Marked cheeks and sharp teeth.

And there was the itch too—something under her skin that writhed and howled. Something hot and uncomfortable, pressing against her insides like it wanted to burst her open.

It scared her. _Terrified her._

More than the matron, with her cruel words and cold indifference. More than the halls of the orphanage, the ones that felt like they were trying to suffocate her. More than the formless shadows that haunted her steps and stared at her blankly from their white faces.

Whatever it was in her, it wasn't like everyone else.

She knew it in her bones, knew that no one else around her seemed to have the same burning _need _scratching at their heads. The thing buried inside her, the thing that licked at the back of her throat and made her want to scream—Naruto knew it was far more dangerous than anything out there.

Naruto knew she was different, that she was _strange _and _wrong._ That wasn't the problem.

No.

The problem was that everyone else seemed to know it too.

**OoO**

The first time she was hit, the first time she felt the smack of an open hand against her face and had the spark of pain zip through her, Naruto was three and had dropped a plate onto the floor.

The force of the blow threw her to the ground, head snapping to the side and small body landing atop the porcelain shards that cut into her flesh. She cried out, hunching over, her hand flying to hold her cheek and try to make the sting go away. Her eyes watered, both from the pain and the suddenness of it all.

The matron stared down at her, disbelief plastered across her aged features as a thick stillness encroached on the kitchen. Neither of them spoke, and only the soft _clinks _of the plate's piece broke the silence as Naruto shifted backwards.

Naruto's hand dropped from her face, and her gaze moved from the grooves on the wooden floor to the woman looming above her.

The matron flinched back, her expression twisting through several emotions before finally settling on something hard and cold. The woman reached out and Naruto couldn't twist out of the way in time. She gripped her by her upper arm, dragging her to her feet and causing her to whine again as the cuts on her legs pulled and hot red lines slipped down her skin.

"Be quiet." The matron hissed, voice harsh and filled with something Naruto struggled to name; but she silenced herself immediately, swallowing back the noises that wanted to break free.

The matron tugged her towards the sink, letting go of Naruto in favour of wetting an old cloth. She was muttering under her breath, loud enough that Naruto might have made out the words if she could've concentrated beyond the roaring in her ears.

There was a new sensation creeping along the edges of her awareness, some nebulous instinct brimming in her chest that had her breath hitching and a prickle blooming at the base of her skull—all of it followed by a congealed word that seared itself into her brain, whispered in a voice she half-remembered.

_Threat._

She wanted to run, the urge bubbling up until she was almost vibrating with it—but her feet wouldn't move.

Instead, she waited quietly by the matron's side, head down, mouth throbbing, body shaking.

She stared at her legs, looking at the gashes and the red running out of them. Again, a word shook loose from the bottom of her mind, breezing its way to the forefront of her thoughts. It slotted into a space she hadn't realised was empty.

_Blood._

The cloth was shoved into her face. "Here," the matron said gruffly, "clean yourself up. I won't have you bleeding everywhere; not when the others could see you. Be quick about it, then throw that away and sweep up the mess you made."

Naruto took the cloth without a word, the damp fabric hanging limp and cold in her hands.

The matron's lips puckered, for a moment looking like she was going to say something, but she didn't. Just turned and left the kitchen. Naruto watched her go, mouth dry and chest tight with an emotion she was too young to know.

Slowly, she brought the wet cloth to her leg and began to dab at the blood there, each swipe of her hand taking more and more away.

Naruto sniffled softly as she worked, her cuts burning whenever she brushed the cloth over them, and she sunk her teeth into her bottom lip to quell the sounds building in her throat. The matron had told her to be quiet, and she didn't want to be in more trouble by disobeying.

She cleaned herself as best she could, picking out the minuscule pieces of porcelain still embedded in the wounds, wincing each time her fingers tugged on the broken skin.

She had never hurt like this before.

As if summoned by her thoughts, a strange feeling began to erupt in her legs. Naruto reached down, hands hovering just above her wounds, wanting to touch but not wanting to hurt it again. The tingling grew stronger, and she watched with teary eyes as the edges of her cuts drew back together, stitching themselves closed until nothing remained but the red smudges.

Blinking in confusion, Naruto ran questioning fingers over where the largest gash had been, and the pain receded into a dull ache.

She stood there for a moment, wondering. She remembered last week, remembered Hideki, tripping, cutting his knees on the ground—cuts that were still on him this morning.

The same feeling appeared in her mouth, and Naruto poked at her cheek as the pain there started to disappear as well, leaving only the funny taste behind.

Her eyes drifted to the bloodied cloth in her hand, and for a long minute Naruto had trouble breathing.

_Different, _she thought with ringing clarity.

_Wrong, _she could hear the matron sneering.

**OoO**

That was the first time she had ever bled. The first time she had tasted her own mortality, thick and metallic, on her tongue.

It wasn't the last.

The carers grew bolder, when they realised how quickly she healed. More liberal with their punishments, because the evidence was always gone within the day and no one else cared.

She learned how to take a hit by the time she was four, how to sway with the force, how to fall without hurting herself, how to grit her teeth and swallow her cries.

She learned to accept the burst of blood in her mouth.

Naruto had been drowning in blood since the moment she was born, and she knew she'd be drowning in it until she died.

**OoO**

Naruto wasn't allowed to play with the other children. She wasn't allowed to eat in the dining hall with them either.

Instead, she ate in her room, with a small plate and a tiny meal already gone cold by the time it was brought to her.

She swallowed every bite though, forcing the hard bread and lumpy rice down, and drinking the water from her chipped glass, always careful not to cut her mouth on the jagged edges.

The food in the orphanage was never nice, and the empty feeling in her never truly went away, but it was better than nothing. It was better than the days the carers forgot to give her anything at all.

She was young—too young to understand why she was treated this way, why she was so small, why her collarbones were so sharp, and her ribs were visible, and why this was wrong.

She was too young to know why her body was literally eating her alive because it needed _more. _

Naruto learned another word that way, sitting in the dark of her room, bent over her licked-clean plate and ignoring how her stomach twinged.

_Hunger._

It sizzled in her gut, seeping into the cracks and crevices of her heart and making a home there.

Naruto always felt hungry, sometimes for things she couldn't even explain. It was just there, weaving between her thoughts and leaving her sad and hollow and confused.

**OoO**

Most days Naruto spent locked away in her room, whiling the hours away as she waited for the matron to let her out by staring out the tiny cracked window that hung high above her bed.

She would pull herself up, fingers clamped over the wooden lip, nails digging deep and arms shaking from the effort of holding herself there for hours, and she would just watch.

She would watch the colourful little figures moving below her with covetous eyes, face pressed against the grimy glass, fogging it with her frantic breaths.

She would watch the way the other children played with each other. Watched the way they laughed and jumped and squealed together; and she_ wanted _with a ferocity that scared her.

She wanted to be down there. She wanted to play with them. To laugh and jump and squeal and have friends. But she was only allowed outside in the afternoon, when the other children were doing chores or having lessons.

Naruto didn't understand why she was kept separate. She didn't understand why the matron was always so angry with her—and that was another word Naruto knew now, one she was all too familiar with, because it seemed she sowed anger wherever she went, but no one ever told her what she was doing to cause it, not when they hit her, not when she had to drag herself back to her room and wait for the wounds to disappear—and she didn't understand how to change things.

All she knew was that the carers were afraid of her. That the faceless men and women that visited her sometimes were too, in their own way.

Naruto knew it—had learned to read it in the way people tended to edge around her, each movement so carefully planned, like they thought she would lash out. She saw it in the way they sometimes stood over her, backs straight and shoulders drawn tight, even as their hands shook and their feet shifted. How they cringed when she looked at them for too long, unable to hold her gaze.

And if she couldn't see it, she could _smell it._ The heady scent of sweat and panic that filled her nose whenever she entered a room.

It confused her, prompted her to spend hours squinting at her faint reflection in the window glass, fingers pulling at her lips and eyelids, trying to understand what they saw that made them all so afraid.

She'd scratch at her cheeks with uneven nails—scratch and scratch and _scratch _until her skin was red and irritated, and the faint lines there were hard to spot for the few minutes it took to heal. And then they'd still be there, untouched and unbroken.

She'd push dirt into her hair, turning it into a muddy brown instead of its normal colour, hoping maybe that would be enough; only to have the carers pour buckets of water over her head until it all washed out.

She'd trace the soft pads of her thumbs along her teeth, feeling as they went from blunt to too sharp and back again; pressing into the points until the skin was on the verge of breaking. She tried to stop opening her mouth, to not show her teeth—because no one had teeth like hers, she'd come to realise—but her silence seemed to scare them more.

Nothing she did ever worked, and Naruto just wished someone would_ tell her _what was wrong with her so that she could _fix it._

**OoO**

Some nights, Naruto would lay in her cot, surrounded by the smell of mould and dust, and squeeze her eyes shut. She would press her hands to her chest and curl up tight and imagine.

A woman with bright hair. A man with eyes like hers. Hands that would stroke her face and voices that would wish her goodnight. Arms that would cradle her close and smiles that were warmer than the sun.

Those night she always woke up crying, because she knew that the ghosts she longed for didn't exist—knew that they hadn't wanted her, because the carers told her so and they were mean, but she didn't thing that they would lie about that.

She was alone.

**OoO**

Except she wasn't.

Because there was a fire building in her heart and a presence clinging to the edges of her consciousness, eager to avoid the darkness lurking below.

It spoke to her without words when she slept, reaching out to her from the void, hovering under her eyelids and tingeing her dreams red.

Those nights she dreamt of faraway places. Of water that went on towards the horizon and that tasted like her tears. Of land that jutted up into the sky. Of fields covered in white powder that sprayed up as she ran through it.

And words swirled through her mind, connections being drawn between things she'd never seen and terms she hadn't learned.

_Ocean. Mountain. Snow._

Those dreams always left her with the aching sense of loss, and the thing in her chest would snarl because it was angry.

_Always, always angry._

**OoO**

Sometimes Naruto felt too big for her body. Like her skin was pulled too tight over her bones—bones that were the wrong shape, bones that bent strangely, bones that were thin and weak and breakable.

She'd look up at the people around her, at the adults that ruled her life, and think that it should be the other way around. That she should be towering over them, that they should be the ones craning their necks to see her.

Other times she felt too small. Incomplete and lacking somehow. Like she was missing something important that she couldn't fully remember—only that she _needed it _because she _wasn't worthy without them—_

She felt less than what she was. Less than what she was supposed to be.

Just.

Less.

**OoO**

In the afternoons, the children sat down for their lessons. An hour or two a day dedicated to teaching them the basics. How to read, how to write, how to count.

Naruto, like with everything else, wasn't allowed to participate—wasn't _suitable _to sit in with the others. She'd learned early that it was better for her to avoid the orphanage at this time. Too many times the carers had caught her with her ear pressed hard to the door, desperate to glean any hint of what was being said. And too many times she had been thrown into her room as punishment, blood thick in her mouth, hours before nightfall and without any dinner.

So, she spent her afternoons wandering the grounds outside instead, enjoying the warmth of the sun on her face and the feel of the grass beneath her toes.

She felt more at home amongst the trees, with the sky stretching in all directions above her, than she ever could inside her little room in the orphanage. While the space was _hers _in a way so few things were—there was something about the forest that called to her. A tug in her gut that drew her back time and again.

She loved the flavour of the air, how rich and fresh it tasted. She loved to run her fingers over the harsh bark of the trees. She loved to climb into the canopy, playing with the vibrant leaves and sitting with her eyes shut as the wind rustled around her.

It was indescribable in many ways, just how peaceful she felt in those moments.

But there were some days when not even the forest could sate the curiosity brewing inside her. It was on those days—when the sight of the orphanage sent her skin crawling, when the knot in her chest grew too tight, when she could still feel the phantom hands on her even if the bruises were long gone—that Naruto ventured further, out into the village that lay beyond the trees.

She was always careful when she did, knowing how much trouble she would be in if the matron ever found out. Leaving the orphanage grounds was forbidden, and it was the first rule all of them learned, reinforced with warnings of the unknown and vague threats of what could happen to lost children.

Naruto hadn't received the same warnings as the others, but the impression had still carried over to her. At least until her first rebellious visit.

Because the village fascinated her.

There was a buzz under her skin whenever she slipped into the heart of the bustling streets, caught in the crowds and the noises and the colours. It was so different from the dense forest, filled with people and lights and buildings, but at the same time it felt similar—something magnetic that sung to her, that made her blood beat faster.

But for all the interest the village evoked in her, it had its dangers as well.

The people in the village were just like the carers. They didn't hit her, nothing beyond a few jostles or nudges, but their eyes were venomous, and their words were bitter whispers, dogging her steps and cutting into her every time she walked freely amongst them.

The disappointment of that discovery—that even here, away from the matron and the orphanage, people still hated her—had buried its teeth into her with relish.

So she rationed her visits, only daring to go out when she couldn't bear to remain at the orphanage any longer; when not even the forest could soothe her. She stuck to the alleyways, content to watch from the shadows as the village pulsed around her, absorbing the many sights and splendours, obsessed and captivated. She moved silently, avoiding being seen as much as she could—and she always returned before sundown.

She'd scurry back to the orphanage, tired and dirty from the trek, but shaking with residual excitement, feeling more alive than she ever had before.

**OoO**

It was inevitable, really.

Naruto was smaller than everyone else—one of the youngest in the orphanage, caught between an infant and a child. Her wrists were birdlike, and her bony shoulders seemed to shudder with every breath she took. Her long hair fell in tangles around her, and her eyes were almost too large for her face.

She was quiet, shy, _weird._

And children were cruel, cruel creatures.

Naruto had long accepted that she would never be friends with any of the others, had taken that small flicker of hope she used to cradle in her chest and smothered it, so it stopped hurting her.

She learned to ignore the taunts the others threw at her, careless in their words and ignorant of their meanings. She learned to suppress the flinch that came with every _monster _and _freak _they aimed her way. She learned to squash the spark of something dark that crackled at the back of her mind whenever one of them shoved her, pulled at her hair, tore her clothes.

She pushed it all down, desperate and determined to not let it show. But the storm brewing inside her was not something she could contain.

So, when Eiji—ten and so much bigger than her, hard knuckles and sharp eyes—dug his hand into her hair and ripped a chunk from her head, Naruto turned around and sunk her teeth into his arm.

Eiji flailed, falling to the ground, and Naruto—jaw locked and eyes raging—went with him. She sat perched atop him, hands clenched onto his shirt, his shoulder, pushing him into the ground with a strength she'd never had before.

He shrieked, voice pitched high and distressed, and the other children scattered, the fear spreading through them like a noxious wave.

Hands grabbed at her, large and familiar in the worst way, and a sound ripped its way free of her throat, deep and guttural and _wild._

Voices were ricocheting around her, blurring together into one loud mess, and something struck her in the back of her head. Naruto let go, and arms like steel wrenched her away from Eiji, crying loudly and surrounded by several of the carers.

Naruto shouted, thrashing in the hold, snapping her red-stained teeth at the matron as the woman hauled her towards the orphanage. She bucked, hands clawing at the woman, her anger giving way to fear as they went up the stairs, past the second floor, going to the third.

Naruto shivered, because the third floor was off-limits, but everyone knew the stories.

And when the matron stopped before a door with a thick lock on it, Naruto started to cry.

The door was opened, and the space beyond it was small, smaller than her room, with walls that looked damp and discoloured and inky shadows dancing in the corners.

"You horrid little beast," the woman hissed, "you'll stay in here until you learn to behave. Biting—like an _animal,_ I should have expected it from _you."_

The matron threw her inside, and Naruto scrambled onto her knees, crawling back towards the door frantically. "No! Please!"

The door slammed in her face. Naruto rammed into it, her hands beating against the wood. "No! _No!_ I'm sorry—let me out! Please!"

It was dark—darker than she had thought, darker than she was used to—barely a sliver of light slipping through the edges of the door, and Naruto trembled. She hit the door harder, tears springing to her eyes as hysteria lodged in her throat. _"Please!"_

The only thing she heard was the sound of the lock clicking into place.

A sob burst out of her as footsteps moved away from the door.

_Leaving her. _

Naruto spun around, pressing her back into the door and sinking to the floor. Her hands wound into her hair, bunching it into fistfuls as she struggled to breath.

She closed her eyes tight and burrowed into her knees, shaking, her chest heaving, too fast, _too fast—_

Naruto screamed.

**OoO**

Hours, days, weeks,_ years _later—she came back to herself.

It was hard for her to remember where she even went. The darkness of oblivion was the same darkness around her when she was awake, cloying and ubiquitous. But for a time, Naruto had been _elsewhere. _

Breaking out of that other place, she woke curled in a ball, on her side with her back braced against the wall.

She forced her eyes as far open as she could, trying to make out anything. But she couldn't see.

_She couldn't see._

The strangling hold around her neck tightened, and she whimpered, eyes roaming blindly for any hint of a shape—anything she could distinguish.

Nothing. Nothing nothing _nothing—_

Her eyes began to itch, burning hot like nothing she'd ever felt before—the sensation strong but not painful. Naruto rubbed at them, and slowly, she began to make out the edges of the room, to see the planks of the floor and the corners of the walls.

She blinked rapidly, and her vision sharpened.

It was still horribly dark, but she could see.

Naruto wrapped her arms around herself, keeping her eyes open, terrified that if she closed them, she might lose it again.

Someone would come to get her. Someone would open the door and let her out. They wouldn't leave her here. Not forever. They couldn't.

Naruto sat in there for almost two days.

**OoO**

When the matron finally returned for her, Naruto looked up at her with red-flecked eyes.

The woman jerked back, hand flying to her chest in horror.

Naruto picked herself up gingerly and inched out into the hallway, the flames in her eyes fading, red sinking beneath blue. She walked, skittishly, to the second floor, intending to go to her room.

The hunger in her gut barely registered, not above the need to bundle herself in her blanket, to surround herself in the familiar scent—but the energy shooting through her body propelled her outside instead.

The other children flung themselves out of her way, whispering and pointing as she went, but all Naruto could focus on was the wave of warmth that washed over her. She tilted her face up to the sun, basking in it, needing to wipe the cold and shadows away from her skin.

She stood there until the sun dipped below the horizon, her skin soaked with heat and a promise engraved across her heart.

_Never again._

* * *

**It's not a Naruto origin story without a horrible orphanage experience and ignorant, cruel adults. It's honestly a miracle Naruto didn't grow up exactly like Gaara did initially, to be honest.**

**Let me know your thoughts for this and my tumblr is 'Child_OTKW'**.


	3. Chapter Three

**I'm glad everyone's been enjoying GD so far - the next lot of chapters will all be centred around Naruto in her pre-Academy, and Academy days. This chapter was bit finicky to get down, but I'm relatively happy with how it turned out. **

**For those who asked in the previous chapters as well, this is just a blanket statement that the way I'm going to be developing Naruto's personality might differ slightly from how he was portrayed in canon. Obviously there's no logical way that a child that was subjected to all the horrid stuff that Naruto was should have, in any way, turned out as well-adjusted as Naruto did. I'll be taking a (hopefully) more realistic approach to Naruto's childhood, and the long-lasting affects it would have on her personality. She hopefully won't be too out of touch with the original Naruto, but she's not going to be as happy-go-lucky as in the canon. For reasons that will be expanded upon in coming chapters.**

* * *

Rows upon rows of little shadows moved below him, performing every action in perfect synchronisation—the result of months and years of rigorous drilling. Their silence was total, their obedience absolute.

He stood above them all, high on a separate balcony that provided an unhindered view of each of them. His hawk-like gaze scanned every recruit, meticulously searching for any hint of weakness, hesitation, _restraint._ Anything that might indicate failure. It was better to weed out the unsuitable now, he knew, rather than invest more effort into them only to discover a fault later.

He did so hate wasting resources, after all.

Though, so far this batch looked promising. Several of them in particular had caught his attention, showcasing remarkable skill and fortitude; which was precisely what he needed now. Already, he had begun preparing the next phase of their training, intending to fast-track the ones he could afford to.

He needed to replenish his forces. The loses he had suffered from the Kyuubi's attack—because Sarutobi refused to call upon all their shinobi, regulating their younger, stronger, more plentiful generations to the non-combative operations—were still felt; and his usual methods, unfortunately, took more time to produce results than he had available right now.

On top of that, the botched attempt to remove Sarutobi from his position, of Hatake's backsliding loyalty and subsequent betrayal, had cost him some of his best operatives as well. Only one had survived—and not even by the boy's own merit, but as an act of _mercy._ Kinoe was still behaving erratically, his attitude and compliance beginning to morph into something that bordered on unruly. He would have to find something new to occupy the boy's time with, so that he would stop his childish obsession with the one who had spared him.

The sting of his failure in overthrowing Sarutobi, and the inability to handle one of his most useful agents, had yet to subside. It seemed every day he was losing more and more control. And now, here he was, forced into the shadows of his own village, far deeper than he had ever had to go before, because Sarutobi thought he could force a concession.

It was more of a nuisance then he would have expected.

Of course, none of it would have mattered if he had had the girl.

Naruto Uzumaki.

Just the thought of the sheer potential that was being squandered right now had his lips curling into a soft sneer. It was downright idiotic that they were letting such a tool remain dull and useless. If Konoha wanted to regain even a spark of its former glory, then it was time to stop ignoring their greatest weapon.

Once already, he had been made to stand aside and watch as their jinchuuriki wilted away into a generic _housewife,_ instead of being utilised properly. Kushina Uzumaki could have been magnificent. Her specialised chakra and her heritage, as well as her possession of the Kyuubi would have guaranteed it. And yet, even with all those abilities at her fingertips, she had never progressed beyond a jounin rank—seemingly content to remain in retirement and raise a family.

Perhaps if they had bothered teaching the woman to use the bijuu, the war would have ended years earlier. Kumo's jinchuuriki was rumoured to have perfect control over his own bijuu, and that no one seemed to find that fact as concerning as he did, infuriated him.

It had been a crime to allow their jinchuuriki to fade into the background once, but for Sarutobi to appear willing to repeat his previous mistake with their newest one? It was unspeakable, and dangerous, and would undoubtedly lead to their destruction.

The girl should have been handed to him the night of her birth, from the very moment the Kyuubi had been sealed inside her, regardless of if her parents had survived the ordeal or not. He could have begun to shape her into what Konoha needed.

To have a jinchuuriki—the strongest jinchuuriki—devoted to his cause would have been a powerful boon indeed. With the girl under his thumb, he could propel Konoha in the right direction, for the first time in decades.

But she hadn't been given to him, and now he was trapped in yet another game with Sarutobi. The two of them attempting to outmanoeuvre each other, to disrupt the other's plans; neither gaining much ground, neither willing to admit defeat.

It was maddening, and humiliating, that a pacifist such as Sarutobi was able to not only predict his movements, but counter them so effectively.

He had yet to make another try for the girl, too wary of being exposed, of being stopped before he could accomplish anything. The first attempt had been a spectacular disaster, and he supposed the only real benefit had been that no one had discovered his involvement. The men he had charged with stealing the girl from her crib had inevitably been able to mislead Hatake enough to be labelled as mere mercenaries.

It was pure luck, he knew. The boy had been too emotional, compromised and frantic in his retrieval of his late sensei's daughter, to look closer at the answers he was fed. The bodies had been collected swiftly by his own forces, and Sarutobi remained none the wiser.

It was a minor, if irritating, setback.

Sarutobi might believe that he was protecting the girl, but he was a fool.

He refused to relent. Not again. Not on this.

The jinchuuriki was too important to remain as she was. She was too valuable to be allowed to follow in her mother's footsteps. To have a weapon of her calibre go through the general ninja admittance—to have her wallow away in the academy for years, learning things of little substance, when she could already be out working for them by the time her peers graduated—was not something he could abide.

She needed to be used correctly, with every ounce of her talent and skills dedicated to the improvement of their village.

And afterwards, once she had secured Konoha's position as the undisputed power that _it should be,_ perhaps then he would give thought to having the Uzumaki clan revitalised. There were certain characteristics inherent to that clan, traits that would be well-suited to his ranks. It would be a shame if her genetics were to go to waste, especially if they needed a jinchuuriki after her.

But unfortunately, not everyone understood his aspirations.

Sarutobi saw himself as a visionary. As someone who could turn centuries of violence around and create something as farfetched as peace. Preaching the saint, when for years he had contributed directly to the cycle's continued existence—years where he had revelled in the fights and the chaos, at being able to crush his opponents on the battlefield.

If that man was the one leading them, then he would at least be content to wait. But it wasn't. Sarutobi was _weak _now, because he would not do what was necessary. What was one child, one life, in comparison to an entire country? What was the point of having such power at their disposal if they left it untouched?

There was a shift in the air, the faintest rustle of clothes, and Danzo turned to see two agents kneeling behind him, heads lowered respectfully. Excellent.

"Report."

It was Souta who spoke first, and though he had returned his focus to the recruits below, Danzo listened intently to the medic's words.

"The monthly check showed no changes in the girl's health. Malnutrition is still prevalent, and her weight and height remain far below the average for her age range; though despite this there appears to be no signs of enamel erosion or cognitive impairment. Currently there are no physical injuries, but I did detect traces of lingering soft tissue damage, and a collection of stable fractures in her arms that are healed."

Danzo hummed to himself, unsurprised. The girl had been underweight for every report he had received so far, and he doubted that would change anytime soon. Not without intervention. The knowledge that her mental development had not been affected was intriguing, however. There was little to no research done on jinchuuriki, due to their volatile nature, and certainly none done on one so young.

Naruto Uzumaki had barely been an hour old before the Kyuubi had been sealed within her, and Danzo wondered if these anomalies—the curious way she both exhibited classic symptoms of malnourishment in some areas, yet in others remained completely unaffected—were linked to that fact. It called for further investigation.

"And what of her seal?"

"From my observations, it is unaltered. The blend of chakra is still miniscule at this stage."

Danzo nodded, a begrudging kernel of respect growing in his chest at the reaffirmation of Minato Namikaze's abilities. The man's resourcefulness with fuuinjutsu was rivalled only by his old mentor; and his access to one of the last Uzumaki had only sharpened those skills into something monstrous.

It had taken months for his operatives to uncover which seal the man had used on his newborn daughter—months spent deciphering whatever scraps of Uzumaki sealing scrolls they could get their hands on. It had been an exercise in patience. Like solving a puzzle with only half the pieces.

But in the end, they had done it.

The Eight Trigram Seal. An ingenious answer to a dire problem.

The exact details were still unclear, but from what he had deduced, Naruto Uzumaki was a jinchuuriki that not only housed a tailed beast but was one whose chakra was incrementally merging with the bijuu's. It was revolutionary and provided a unique chance for him. Danzo did not know if the bijuu could be removed from the girl now, should the situation call for it.

He had too many questions. How long would it take for the Kyuubi's chakra to fully integrate with the girl's? What effects would it have on her that he had not already seen? What would happen to the bijuu if the merging was even completed?

And, most importantly, could she harness it?

There were too many variables for him to be comfortable, and the answers had ultimately died with her parents—if they themselves had even known the full extent of the seal's properties, or how it would impact their daughter's growth.

Truly though, Minato was a shinobi that Danzo should have claimed, back when the boy had first shown his talents in the academy. No one would have missed a clanless bastard, even if the rumours of his lineage were true. He could have been so much more under Danzo's tutelage. Maybe then he would not have objected so strongly to the man's promotion to Hokage.

"Were there any other developments?"

There was a brief lull before Souta responded, a moment to properly gather his thoughts, or something more—either way, Danzo faced the two of them, his uncovered eye narrowing at the unexpected pause.

"The girl is showing symptoms of trauma." Souta continued swiftly, sensing his disapproval. "During the examination she was significantly more defensive, and regularly flinched away from me. She was overly aggressive and…reactive in a way she was not last month. She tried to bite me. And I believe she is not sleeping, she was exhausted."

Danzo almost raised an eyebrow. _Biting._ He supposed it was common enough in young children—but he would have thought the carers would have beaten that particular habit out of the girl in their fear. The guardians of the orphanage—a civilian orphanage, goodness knew what Sarutobi was thinking—had always held a hostile attitude towards the girl.

It spoke of the serious ignorance of the civilian population. The arrogance that they wielded, so assured they were of their own safety and superiority; when they were little more than ants, cowering beneath the strength of the shinobi who risked their lives for them. Antagonising a jinchuuriki intentionally, without any working knowledge of how secure the seal was—it was asking for a swift and bloody death.

They were fortunate that their fallen Hokage was so proficient, or there would have already been another rampage brought on by their carelessness.

But the physical abuse was not important to him. The child was a hardy one, and with the bijuu inside her, it would take more than the pitiful hits of the untrained to seriously harm her.

This mention of psychological damage intrigued him far more. Something must have struck a chord in the girl recently, to have such a visceral reaction. Something more than the occasional backhand or skipped meal. There was a gap in his information somewhere, and he wanted it filled.

It was a mistake easily fixed, though. He could sense the sudden opportunity being presented to him.

That the girl's response to a perceived threat was violence boded well. Someone that did not act pre-emptively against enemies, that did not defend themselves viciously, was useless.

Naruto Uzumaki would be his greatest accomplishment.

Abused children were simple things to manipulate, after all. He had been careful these last few years, waiting for the perfect moment to strike.

He should have taken a more personal approach to the jinchuuriki from the beginning. Now, it would take time—at least several meetings—to coax the girl and gain her trust. But an extended hand of kindness was often more effective than brute force; and the promise of protection and guidance, of no judgement or undeserved punishment, might be all he needed to get her.

He had to go about this carefully. Sarutobi was having him watched, and any interest he personally showed in the girl would surely be reported. No. He would have to send someone in to ease the way for him. Someone who could act as a bridge between him and the girl, until such a time where he could begin to persuade her.

Danzo almost smiled as an idea began to form.

"Very well. Go to the Hokage. The usual information will be fine—the girl is healthy, no signs of physical or emotional damage."

"Yes, Lord Danzo."

Souta vanished, and Danzo was content to know that in this, at least, he was ahead of his old rival. Sarutobi had made a grave mistake in removing himself so completely from the girl's life. Even more so in letting Hatake—one of the last true connections to her parents left—retreat from her, to reject any attempt to raise her. With no clan allowed to foster her, Sarutobi had left the girl open to anyone intelligent enough to influence her.

Aito remained behind, head still bowed. Danzo glanced at him, his satisfaction dropping off.

Alone she might be, but Naruto Uzumaki was not without any protection.

Mikoto Uchiha was fast becoming a problem, her voice one of the loudest in the sea of those revolving around the jinchuuriki. The woman had not wavered once in the time since the girl's birth, and Danzo knew it was only the harsh threat of arrest that stopped the Uchiha matriarch from taking the girl into her home.

If Aito's information was not favourable, Mikoto Uchiha and her ilk might have to be dealt with.

"Report."

Below, his soldiers danced on.

**OoO**

She was different after that day, after the room, after the _dark._ More different than she had been before. It was like something in her had been rattled loose by the shadows and the cold, and Naruto didn't know what it was or how to fix it.

She didn't even know if she wanted to—if fixing it meant going back to a time before she knew just how unsafe she was at the orphanage. If it meant falling back into the haze of ignorance, of letting the matron and the carers and the other children hurt her just because they could.

Naruto had made herself a promise that day, had whispered it to herself every day since to make sure she remembered it—to make sure she didn't break it.

_Never again._

_Never again _would she go back into that dark room.

_Never again _would she let someone make her feel that helpless.

_Never again _would she cry out for aid, for mercy, for_ anything_—because it would never come.

Naruto could see that now. She had had her blinders ripped from her in one cruel move. For the first time she knew, without a doubt, that there would never be any love for her here. That precious spark of hope she had once tried to shield from them—that spark that whispered _one day,_ and _maybe this time,_ and _if I just_—was gone. Evaporated. Nothing but ash in her hands.

The orphanage wasn't her home. The people here weren't her family. They didn't care about Naruto, they barely even tolerated her. So why should she care about them? Why should she tear herself apart trying to fit with people who just didn't _want her?_

She didn't belong here.

And _never again _would she make the mistake of thinking that.

**OoO**

In the wake of her revelation, Naruto avoided the orphanage as much as she could.

The walls she had once believed would suffocate her presented a very real danger to her now, in a way they hadn't before. The fear of them collapsing in on her grew into a terrible and violent thing; and being inside for too long made her skin prickle. The narrow hallways made her heart pound against her ribcage—made her head spin and her lungs ache and black spots dance across her vision. Whenever it happened, she would blindly lower herself to the floor, curl in close, and wait for the choking panic to subside.

She could barely stand returning to her room to sleep, only able to close her eyes on the nights when the moon was hanging high in the sky—the nights where she could see the pale light streaming through her little window—with her blanket draped loose around her. She would lay in her bed and stare up at the ceiling, or the corners of her room, and just wait until she drifted away.

Her dreams were different too, now. Not just flashes of places and things she had never seen and didn't understand, but filled with shadows that reached out to her, clawing at her hair and face, icy fingers digging deep and leaving her soaked with sweat. They were always worse when she had been inside most of the day.

So, instead of subjecting herself to that, and the company of the other children, Naruto retreated into the forest, seeking the comfort it provided. The quiet serenity of the woods always managed to beat back the lingering terror of the orphanage, washing away her nightmares.

The matron didn't bother locking her in her room anymore—not after that day, not after she had seen the frenzied gleam in Naruto's eyes and _flinched_—so each morning, as the sun rose, Naruto would creep out of the orphanage and slip into the undergrowth.

And she went deep.

She walked between the engorged roots of the towering trees, buried herself in the earthy scent of the mud, and she let the knot in her chest loosen.

There was a tangible presence that hovered in the forest, a weight she couldn't describe; but it wrapped around her, gently enfolding her senses and beckoning her.

It was familiar to her, in a distant way, like something in her recognised the glow emanating from the bark and the leaves, and it grew stronger every day.

She'd huddle in the hollow of a tree, eyes closed, and listen to the sounds of life buzzing around her.

She'd lay in the middle of a clearing, where the grass grew long and tangled, and let insects crawl along her skin, watching their progression with inquisitive eyes.

She'd sit in one place for hours, her body still, and wait patiently as snakes wound around her legs and lizards scurried over her feet.

There was something about the animals as well that intrigued her—all the bursts of life brushing against her consciousness, ebbing and flowing around her like a river that Naruto sunk into greedily. She didn't understand the warmth that spread through her, the waves of energy that resonated and guided her further into the woods. The ones that never failed to lead her to something new and alive.

With each step she took, it was like the whole world was holding its breath, and Naruto could feel the nervous hum that followed her. Could hear the soft, cautious chittering of the bigger animals that stalked the area—the ones that burned like little candle flames in her mind, stronger than the reptiles and bugs, but placid and soft.

They stirred whenever she came close, most shrinking away from her, some just hovering; but all of them watching her with wariness.

Naruto recognised it, recognised that glint in their dark eyes, because it shone, fever-bright, in her own whenever she saw her reflection. It was a hunted kind of look, the one she knew she wore when she was around the matron and the carers and the faceless ones—anyone bigger, anyone she looked at and saw as a threat, the ones that made her want to bare her teeth and snarl to show them that she wasn't weak.

It bothered her to have that look directed at her, because she hadn't done anything to hurt the animals. She hadn't hit them or yelled at them or chased them, like people often did to her. Though at the same time, it soothed the itch inside her, because here she was acknowledged. Here, they looked at her and _knew that she—_

But the thought always slipped from her grasp, leaving her chest oddly tight and her eyes stinging. Naruto wished she knew how it ended, that she knew who and what she was. Maybe then she'd know what was wrong with her.

**OoO**

She didn't let the fear stop her though.

The forest was home to her too, in a way nothing else was anymore, and Naruto was a bundle of determination and desperation most days.

She wanted to change the way they looked at her—the animals, the way the skittered away from her, bolting whenever they caught sight of her. She wanted to show herself that she could; that there were some capable of looking at her without that crazed air surrounding them—even if they were only animals.

She wanted it so badly it lodged itself in her chest and festered.

Because if Naruto could change how the animals treated her, if she could erase the panic in their eyes whenever she came close, then maybe she could do it to everyone else too.

_Maybe. _

_Hopefully. _

_Please._

**OoO**

She was careful. Patient and resolute in a way she rarely was—stubborn and half-mad in her desire to succeed.

She tried, over and over, blind but tenacious in her approach. She had no clue what she was doing, feeling like she was stumbling her way through a dance she didn't know the steps to.

She'd make herself small. Hunch her shoulders and lower her eyes and wind her arms close. All tricks she'd learned at the orphanage, skills she had honed, things that made her seem like_ prey _so that they wouldn't see the _predator._

It took weeks, weeks of sitting still, or of walking slow and calm, of baring her neck and speaking in soft, crooning tones—or sometimes not speaking at all, just copying the low hums the animals used to comfort each other.

But it worked.

The first time a deer nudged its wet nose against the palm of her open hand, Naruto cried. It was the first soft touch she could remember.

She had stroked the short, brittle fur of its neck, felt the steady thrum of its heart beneath the muscles, and cracked under the weight of her relief.

"Thank you," she had whispered, her voice hoarse from disuse, and the deer had stepped closer, snuffling at her hair. _"Thank you."_

**OoO**

After that, she found she could move freely amongst the larger animals without them shying away from her. It was the first time she was accepted, fully and unreservedly. The first time she could reach out and touch and be _touched back _without the expected flare of pain.

There were no horrid looks here, no mean words or harsh attacks; and Naruto would sometimes spend whole afternoons resting against the side of a doe and her fawn, or nestled under the weight of dozens of little creatures, dozing peacefully in the sun.

And if some days her cheeks were wet, and her eyes red-rimmed, there was no one to see her press her face into the soft fur and tremble through her pain.

There was no one to judge her out here.

There was no one at all, really.

**OoO**

She started to travel further than she used to, mapping out the area in her head, letting the damp coolness of the forest seep into her body.

She found a stream, and spent an entire day splashing around in the clear blue water, scaring the fish that lived there and washing the dirt away from her skin; letting her wet hair stick to her neck and shoulders, heavy and dark.

She followed the water, navigating the rocks and roots and logs like she was born for it.

She found a collection of boulders, all larger than her and stacked tall. They were rough, with plenty of places to grab, and when Naruto reached the top she could see over the thick canopy of the trees, all the way to the gigantic wall that rose up high, closer than she had ever seen it before.

She slowly worked her way towards it, marvelling at how it stretched into the air. When she finally reached the base, the sun was low in the sky behind her, bathing the wall in vicious reds.

It was cracked in some places, the faded paint flecking with age, and Naruto trailed her thin fingers along the vein-like lines. She walked for hours, her hand idly dragging along the wall as she went, leaving a trail in the dust and turning her fingers black.

It was quiet this far out, and Naruto might have been worried about getting lost out here—if getting lost didn't mean never returning to the orphanage.

The sky grew darker, and as she walked Naruto's head swivelled, darting from gazing up at the stars that were beginning to emerge, and watching where she was going.

Reluctantly, she made her way back to the orphanage, hungry and a little tired from her day.

That was the first time she felt them.

**OoO**

Naruto wondered if she had always known that they were there, and that's why it took so long for her to actually realise.

There were people following her.

They weren't like the people at the orphanage though, who flickered like fires in her mind, small and spluttering.

No.

These people reminded her of the stars, distant and cold but so clearly _more. _She only felt them when she concentrated, and even then only for a few moments.

They were like the ones that visited her sometimes, the ones with glowing hands and masked faces and strange clothes.

Naruto knew the matron called them _ninja _with a twist to her lips but unease in her eyes.

Naruto thought that anyone who made the matron look like that was alright.

**OoO**

She returned the next day, making it back to the wall well before midday, and continued with her adventure.

She found such wonderful things out here, broken things from long ago, aged and half-buried.

And metal.

She found lots of pieces of metal, some reminding her of the knives in the kitchen, but shaped strangely. _Different,_ like she was.

They littered the ground in certain spots, old and discoloured and chipped, but Naruto delighted in each one she uncovered.

She'd pick them up as she came across them, running her fingers over their edges, and tapping the dulled points with interest. She'd wind her small hands around the handles and test the weight.

They felt familiar to her, even though she was sure she had never seen them before; and that not-voice in her head would rumble forth and whisper names to her.

_Kunai,_ for the knives. _Shuriken,_ for the stars. _Senbon,_ for the needles.

Each piece she discovered seemed to have a name, and Naruto stored every one of them away, long passed questioning the presence in her mind that just _knew things._ No one else bothered to teach her anything, and Naruto was bursting at the seams with curiosity—so she accepted the words and impressions that ghosted through her with open arms and childish glee.

It felt good. Knowing something the other children didn't. Having something that was just hers, something they didn't know and couldn't find out unless she told them.

She brought some back to the orphanage, her pockets cluttering as she walked, but if the matron suspected anything, the woman didn't say. No one ever came into Naruto's room, and for once she was glad for the solitude.

She would wait until it was late, then slip onto the floor and pry up one of the loose floorboards. She would take out the small wooden box there and place her treasures inside. It was her secret, and she'd never breathe a word of its existence to anyone.

**OoO**

She wanted to stay in the forest forever, far away from everyone that hated her. She wanted to stay with the animals that treated her like she was one of them. She wanted to find all the secrets that the trees were hiding.

If she had a choice, she would have.

But she didn't.

The first time she had tried to stay, waiting on the rocky outcrop and watching as the stars came out—no indication of intending to return—faceless shadows had descended on her and dragged her back to the matron with nothing but firm warnings to stay within the grounds.

The second time she managed almost the whole night before they got her.

By the third attempt, Naruto had gotten the message. The men and women that dropped from the treetops would never let her remain in the forest. For some reason, they wanted her to be at the orphanage, even though Naruto knew that everyone there would prefer it if she never came back.

It confused and frustrated her because she didn't understand _why._ No one wanted her there, they were all afraid of her—more than ever, since she had bitten Eiji, the smell practically wafting off of them—and yet they wouldn't let her _leave._ It didn't make any sense, and the ones who brought her back never answered her questions no matter how she shouted and screamed.

They never told her why she had to stay with the matron. They never said _anything _beyond the orders to stop running away. They didn't flinch when she hit them, didn't react to her snapping teeth or low snarls; they just guided her back unfailingly, again and again.

She got better at knowing when they were coming, though. Learned to heed the small trickle of awareness that would shoot down her spine whenever their eyes were on her. They blazed across her awareness, lighting up the darkness around her, and as Naruto began to seek them out in her senses, she also learned how to avoid them.

It was almost like a game, in some ways, and despite the anger and disappointment that wove through her each time she was caught, Naruto couldn't help but wonder if this was what having friends was like.

The masked shadows didn't laugh, they didn't squeal or jump, not like she had seen others do when they played—but they didn't hurt her either, which made them infinitely better than the carers in her eyes. Their hands never bruised her, and their voices never rose, and their gazes didn't feel harsh when they looked at her.

They weren't _nice,_ but they weren't _cruel,_ and Naruto was smart enough by now to know that there was a difference.

She didn't like them, not really, not when they were the ones who made her go back to a place that hated her, but they were familiar. There were even a few she grew to know, certain masks that began to appear more and more frequently. Some that visited her at the orphanage for her check-ups, some that simply always followed her into forest.

She grew to know what each felt like as they watched her from high above—grew to know the subtle difference between them, the flavour of them. She started to listen for their breathing, in the moments when it was like time was frozen, and how their movements both fit with the sounds of nature, and yet didn't at the same time.

She talked to them, sometimes. Walking through the forest could get lonely, and she was so very sick of being alone. She would chatter to them as she wound down the overgrown paths, pointing out things she had found and asking questions she knew she wouldn't get an answer to.

They never responded.

Until one day, one of them did.

**OoO**

His name, he had told her, when he had jumped down from his perch, was Kinoe.

He had only been following her for a little bit, Naruto knew, but even though he wore a mask just like all the others, he felt _warm._ There was something about him that made a sliver inside her shake. Something that both made her prickle with warning, yet long to be near him.

He was the first of her shadows to stay where she could see him, the first to really interact with her. The first to talk to her without prompting.

And he was kind to her, too. He showed her things, occasionally, like how to catch fish with her bare hands, and how to build a fire properly, so that it didn't get out of control. He showed her how to hunt, how to kill smaller animals quickly, without hurting them. He showed her how to cook the meat, but refused any that she offered him, pushing it all towards her.

Naruto, always ravenous, didn't protest too much.

He showed her a lot of things, but her favourite lesson was how to hold the scraps of metal. She wasn't allowed to throw them, though, and he always stopped her before she could.

"Why?" She had asked, blinking up at his hidden face—and he couldn't be that much older than her, she realised. There were children at the orphanage that were bigger than him.

"Because you'll learn wrong." Was all he had said in response. He didn't elaborate much beyond that, but for once Naruto did as she was told, afraid to chase away the one person who treated her normally. He did show her _how _to throw, using his own knives. He taught her the basic motions, nudging her feet further apart and tugging her shoulders into place, instructed her how to flick her wrist, how to aim, how to hit her target.

The knives he used were shiner than the ones she had collected, polished until they gleamed, and Naruto would watch with wide eyes as the kunai slashed through the air and dug into the trunks of the trees.

But he taught her other things as well, things Naruto didn't think he even meant to.

He taught her how to walk without making a sound. She would watch how he stepped along the forest floor beside her, how he placed his feet so that there wasn't a whisper from his steps, and she would start to mimic him. She watched how his body swayed, how his weight shifted, how his shoulders rolled—and she would _learn. _

She learned how to fade into the background, how to stay so still it was like she melded right into the trees. She learned how to read the tracks in the muddy ground, how to stalk prey for hours without detection. She learned how to hide so well none of her shadows could find her for days at a time.

She learned how to copy the way the comforting cloud surrounding Kinoe could vanish until she couldn't feel him at all, even when he was standing right next to her. She had practiced for weeks, feeling inside herself until she discovered the warmth bubbling deep in her stomach.

The first time she had done it successfully—taking what felt like a _sun _burning inside her and hiding it behind some clouds—Kinoe's head had snapped around to face her, and through the slits in his mask, she had seen how his eyes had widened in surprise.

Naruto loved the afternoons she spent with Kinoe. Loved the soothing timbre of his voice when he explained something to her—what plants she could eat, why she should boil water, how to set a trap—with endless patience. She loved the small wooden figures he would give her, how detailed they were, how pretty they looked. Each one finding a special spot in her box of treasures.

He was the closest thing she had ever had to a friend, and that was why it hurt so much when he just—_disappeared._

**OoO**

It wasn't the first time Kinoe had gone away. In the months she had known him, sometimes a whole week would go by without her meeting him. When she had asked him where he went, he'd answered.

He had told her that he was a ninja, a _shinobi,_ and that he had missions to complete.

He explained to her what ninjas were, vague in the way he normally was when speaking about stuff he wasn't supposed to be. He told her how dangerous it was, spoke of honour and bravery and other things she didn't understand, but that scratched at her mind intensely.

Naruto knew Kinoe had an important job to do, but he had always told her when he'd be away for a long time, and he hadn't said anything when she had seen him last.

So, when three full weeks had passed without her seeing Kinoe, without a word or explanation from him or the other shadows, Naruto finally accepted that he wasn't coming back. That he had left her just like everyone did—because Naruto was a _freak _and he must have finally realised it.

She had cried that day, when it had eventually sunk in that he was gone. She had curled up under the tree they used to meet at, body trembling and her small heart breaking.

She didn't move until it was almost night, when a masked figure dropped down in front of her—not the one she wanted, a different one, one she hadn't seen or felt before—and Naruto didn't even fight when he brought her back to the orphanage, too upset to even open her mouth.

Her throat was too tight, and her chest was cold; and the skin of her palms were creased from how hard she had been clutching the little wooden leaf he had given her two days before he had left.

* * *

**So, hopefully that first section clears up a bit about why the anbu seemed so uninterested in Naruto's predicament in the last chapter. Danzo is a dick, but he's a sneaky dick, and Sarutobi is the Naruto 'verses Dumbledore, and will be written as such.**

**Naruto is dealing with a lot of trauma already, and I know that these themes might upset some people, since she is four in this chapter. I am warning you now, this will get darker before they get better.**

**Side note - Kinoe is a character that most people know under a different name. **

**I hope that everyone enjoyed, let me know what you thought. My tumblr is 'Child_OTKW' if anyone's interested.**


	4. Chapter Four

**So here's the next chapter guys! Thanks for all the patience and the lovely comments - I'm glad to see so many people are enjoying it so far! And good job for the people that knew Kinoe = Tenzo/Yamato.**

**Now, to address the people that have asked, both in the comments and through private means: **_**No,**_** Naruto will not be raped in this story. That is a very heavy topic to tackle in any story, and very triggering for many people. I'm not the kind of person to mess around with topics like that, so, if it's not tagged, it's not happening. And if that ever changed, I would put a warning at the top of a chapter so that people were aware of those kinds of changes.**

**That being said - this is **_**not**_** going to be a happy story for a long while. Naruto will be dealing with plenty of horrible things as she grows up. Please heed the tags that are already in place. There will be elements of physical assault - not sexual assault. This is going to be a realistic take on what Naruto's childhood would have been like growing up in a hostile environment, with virtually no support system, and surrounded by adults that don't care about the damage they cause her. If you don't like things like that in the stories you read, don't keep reading. I will be including them, and the lasting impact they have on Naruto's emotional and mental development.**

**Now, I hope you all enjoy this chapter!**

* * *

Mikoto sat with her fist resting gently against her mouth, watching with a soft expression as Sasuke ran around the garden, his laughter high-pitched and booming in delight as he chased his brother. Itachi endured the game with the same patient fondness that he always held for his younger brother—and the sight they made together warmed her.

These moments were few and far between lately, ever since Itachi had graduated; and being able to see him for once without the lingering traces of guilt and sadness clinging to his too-young features let her breathe a little easier.

Her heart had broken for her son, and for the way he had looked at her after returning from that mission—the one that was supposed to be a _reward _for his team, supposed to be an _honour _to be a part of—with red in his eyes and a heavy sense of loss clawing at his shoulders.

She was supposed to be proud of him, she knew. She was supposed to celebrate it, to praise him from activating his sharingan so much earlier than so many in their clan did. And in a distant way she _was _pleased, because it was one more tool her child had at his disposal, an edge that would keep him alive out there, something that would one day be the reason he returned to her.

But she also hated it, because Itachi was only nine, and he had looked too small in his mourning clothes, standing in the cemetery before a fresh grave.

How was she to congratulate him for gaining his sharingan when it had come at the cost of his teammate's life? What kind of message would that send to him? How could anyone expect him to be excited when that horrid moment would now forever be playing in the back of his mind, unable to fade no matter how much time passed?

Sometimes, in the sanctity of her own thoughts, Mikoto let the seed of black in her chest spread. Let her anger and hate bubble forth until it was thick enough to choke on.

She despised it all.

She despised this system that governed their lives, the one that had them sending child after child to fight their wars. The system that saw the little bodies that were dragged home and had the audacity to call them brave and their sacrifice necessary.

She despised this village, the home that she had bled and killed for, that now expected her sons to do the same. The one that, after decades of loyalty and unwavering support, turned around and scorned her and her family. The village that had taken so much from her—relatives, friends, _Kushina._ The village that saw the fan on her back and _feared._

She despised her clan, where witnessing tragedy was seen as essential for improvement and their worth was judged on the colour of their eyes. Where her children were forced to break over and over, so they could be rebuilt into another's image of obedience and there was nothing she could do to prevent it. Where they were too set in their ways, too scared and angry to look beyond their pride and see the path they desperately needed to take to keep themselves safe.

She despised it all and, perhaps most of all, she despised how all those things condensed into a world where she wasn't allowed to openly love the daughter of her dearest friends.

Naruto should be _here._ She should be running around with Mikoto's sons, laughing and shrieking. She should be a little streak of sunshine in between the dark hair and eyes of Mikoto's family. A beautiful girl with her father's features and her mother's smile.

Kushina and Minato had entrusted their child to her, and Mikoto was powerless to uphold her vows. She had not even seen the girl since that first time. She didn't know who was raising her, or where she was kept. She didn't know if she was healthy, or if she was warm at night. She didn't know _anything _and it made her want to scream at the injustice of it all—at the fact that there were some who believed that she would ever betray Kushina.

Mikoto had _loved _her—her closest friend, her sister in all but blood—and the very idea of forsaking that trust, of taking Kushina's faith in her and abusing it in any way left her sick.

Her fingers tightened around the half-empty cup of tea in her hand, hard enough that the porcelain started to strain, and her next breath was hitched. She closed her eyes and let herself remember.

The exact curve of Kushina's grin, vicious and sharp and unrepentant no matter the situation. The way the sunlight turned Minato's hair into a golden crown atop his head.

The moment Kushina, fourteen and with tears in her eyes, had told Mikoto of her burden, her hand twisting the fabric of her shirt and the fragile glint of hope that had bloomed on her face when Mikoto said she didn't care.

The day of Minato's appointment, and how strong he had looked in his Hokage garbs, his smile peeking out from under the brim of his hat.

The excited and nervous smiles on their faces when they had sat down across from Fugaku and her and told them of the life growing within Kushina, followed immediately by the request that was currently haunting her.

Mikoto's eyes stung at the rush of affection and loss that coiled around her, strangling her under the sheer force of them.

_She missed them so, so much._

A sudden yelp of pain from the garden cut through her sorrow.

She stood swiftly, rushing out to scoop Sasuke up from the ground. He had tripped in his haste to catch his brother and was whimpering quietly in a manner that warned of oncoming tears. Mikoto soothed him, brushing off the stray bits of grass clinging to his clothes and pulling her boy to her chest; fussing because she could and because she knew that soon he wouldn't let her do this at all.

Itachi hovered protectively by her leg, looking up at Sasuke, but he didn't seem overly concerned at the minor tumble. "Let's head inside," she suggested lightly as Sasuke buried his face in her neck and sniffled wetly. "I just finished preparing lunch for us."

Sasuke mumbled something that she couldn't quite decipher, but she took it as an agreement. Itachi trotted towards the door and opened it, allowing Mikoto and Sasuke to enter first. She cupped his cheek as she went through in thanks, and he gifted her with a small, kind smile.

Mikoto placed Sasuke at the table, combing his rebellious hair back fondly and hoping that he couldn't read the amusement on her face.

"Will father be joining us?" Itachi asked as he brought over some plates and took his place beside his brother.

Mikoto straightened, her brows creasing. "No. Your father is at a council meeting. He won't be home until late, I'm afraid."

There was a flash of disappointment on Itachi's face, there and gone again in an instant. Sasuke, on the other hand, made no effort to conceal his, crossing his arms and pouting.

Mikoto smiled at them, though it faded the moment she turned to the kitchen.

She knew that when Fugaku returned he would be in a foul mood. He always was these days, after these sorts of meetings, and from what he had told her of them she could hardly blame him. Her husband was already incensed by their forced relocation to the outskirts of the village and the ongoing investigations about the Kyuubi attack.

Mikoto herself had not been exempt from the vitriol either. She still remembered the thinly veiled accusations thrown her way and the hard stares of the village elders as they asked her the same questions over and over.

_Why did you speak to Kushina that afternoon?_

_Did you tell anyone when the birth would occur?_

_Did you know where they would be?_

And, most insultingly, _Are you sure?_

Mikoto knew that none of them had believed a single answer she gave, and while their blatant refusal to listen to reason rankled her, she bore the scrutiny and bit her tongue, holding back all the caustic things she longed to say in response to their insinuations.

Fugaku—and the clan as a whole—had not taken the interrogation nearly as gracefully as she had, and though she was touched at their loyalty to her and her station, she desperately wished they would let the situation drop. She had no desire to kick up any more trouble.

And perhaps she could have convinced Fugaku to do so, if he were not being treated in a similar manner during the council meetings—with suspicion and fear aimed his way constantly.

She could not help but recall his words from barely a week ago, whispered to her at night in a voice tight with anger and grief.

"_This would never have happened with Minato."_

She hadn't replied then, but she agreed wholeheartedly.

Minato had been as proficient in politics as he had been on the battlefield. He had had an innate understanding of the inner workings of the village and, to an extent, the clans as well. For all that he had not grown up entrenched in the politics, he had been remarkably skilled at navigating it all. But for anyone who had known him from the beginning, it wasn't necessarily a surprise.

Minato had faced his fair share of prejudice and doubt due to his origins and had had to work that much harder to prove himself worthy in the eyes of the village. To show them all that his blood and birthplace had no clout over him. He had been a cynical child, already aware of life's cruelty by the time he had settled in Konoha at the tender age of four, and that sharpness had never left him.

She knew most remembered him as a generally kind and loving man, always with an encouraging word for anyone and endless enthusiasm for his passions; and while he certainly had those qualities, Mikoto was one of the only ones that seemed to remember the utter ruthlessness that had lurked beneath his smile too.

Minato had been _methodical _in everything he did, approaching every situation with a single-minded determination that had been terrifying to behold. From training, to missions, to the war, to pursuing Kushina, to becoming Hokage. It had been like he was going through life with a checklist in his mind, and with each item he crossed off, he only grew more dangerous.

He had been cunning and manipulative, able to control the sway of conversations with any easy sort of confidence and could find weaknesses and pressure point with brutal accuracy. Many people wouldn't even realise they had said something incriminating until Minato had suddenly switched tracks, honing in on them, and said just one carefully worded sentence that cracked against them and broke them open.

He had been especially vicious in his rise to Hokage. Looking back, Mikoto could see just how beautifully Minato had positioned himself, assimilating himself amongst the future clan heads from a young age and earning both their respect and friendship; how he had gained the backing of every jounin and chunnin in their forces. And all his hard work had paid off in the end, in many ways.

The youngest elected Hokage, married to the woman he loved, war hero, one of the strongest shinobi to have lived; and to this day, Mikoto knew that Minato's origins were no longer widely remembered. His efforts to, not _conceal,_ but rather make the information _inconsequential _were undeniably effective.

But for all his cutthroat methods, Minato had also been fair in his judgements.

Fugaku was right. Minato would have never allowed such deliberate fearmongering to occur under his reign. He never would have authorised the Uchiha's relocation or allowed these whispers of blame to persevere—and she missed having Minato as her Hokage almost as much as she missed him as her friend.

Turning back to her sons, smile fixed in place, Mikoto could only hope that things would smooth over eventually.

And when they did, she would see about finally taking her goddaughter under her roof.

**OoO**

Naruto didn't stop going into the forest after Kinoe left her. It wasn't quite the same anymore without him beside her—not as interesting, not as exciting—but the forest was still her one haven in a world that hated her, and nothing could take that from her.

But she wasn't unaffected.

She didn't like thinking about Kinoe, didn't like acknowledging just how close he'd gotten to her—how close she'd let him get to her—or the damage that that closeness had let him deal her. She didn't like thinking about why he had left—if she had done something to push him away or if he had hated her from the beginning and only talked to her for some unknown reason.

She didn't like thinking about how much she missed his voice, or his easy advice, or the stories he sometimes told. She didn't like thinking about him at all.

So, she didn't.

Naruto cast him from her mind with a determination that burned. She crushed the waves of sorrow and confusion that welled up inside her, pushing it all down and _down,_ until she felt nothing but cold resolve in its place.

She'd made a mistake. She let someone in, and then they'd hurt her—and she was sick of being hurt.

She would be more careful from now on.

**OoO**

To distract herself from everything—the matron, the other children, the loneliness—Naruto grew bolder in her movements in the forest. Her new shadows didn't pay as close attention to her as the old ones did, and she exploited that fact as often as she could.

Naruto started to climb higher, jumping from the branches and catching herself before she could hit the ground. She started to add twists, counting how many flips she could do before she was forced to grab onto the perch. She would wrap thick vines around her arms and swing, fast and hard, kicking her legs to propel herself from tree to tree.

The skin on her hands grew rough, her blood sung in her ears.

She felt good doing this. It tasted like freedom.

And if she laughed loud enough, sometimes the echo made it sound like there was someone laughing with her.

**OoO**

Naruto readied herself on one tree's limb, her feet shifting as she prepared to launch, eyes pinned on the branch that she wanted to grab. It had only stopped raining a few minutes ago, and the way the sunlight glinted on the droplets made the whole area glimmer.

She crouched low, her toes flexing in her sandals. Absently, she blew a long, loose strand of hair away from her face; and then she leapt—only for her foot to slip at the last second, the wood squeaking underneath her.

Naruto yelped, her stretching fingers missing the branch entirely.

She fell.

Naruto flailed in the air, spinning wildly, her hands reaching blindly out and skimming along the wet bark of the closest tree.

_Please—_

Fire raced beneath her skin, and she jerked to a stop. Naruto cried out at the sudden change in momentum, her shoulders screaming, and she looked up through teary eyes to see her hands spread flat against the trunk of the tree and the air around them shimmering.

She blinked, body trembling as she tried to understand what she was seeing.

This was—

It felt just like—

The shimmer vanished. Naruto's shout died in her throat as she dropped the rest of the way to the ground. She landed unsteadily on her feet, wobbled, then tumbled onto her back. She stared up at the thick canopy, squinting against the streams of sunlight peeking through the leaves, and her thoughts spiralled.

She pushed herself up and gazed at the tree with suspicion. Slowly, she looked down at her scratched hands—the faint red lines already disappearing, the pain falling into the background of her mind—and clenched them. She flipped them over, curious, trying to see if the strange distortion would reappear.

There was nothing but a faint tingling in her fingers.

Naruto frowned, idly tracing the lines on her palm with her fingertip. She glanced back at the tree and stood, rolling her shoulders distractedly to ease the ache there, and tried to understand what had happened.

She had never felt anything quite like that before; the closest sensation being whenever she touched the sun that sat deep in her gut. But even that had not made her hands hum with energy, nor made the hairs on her arms stand up, or had her ears buzzing.

Naruto made a noise in the back of her throat, thoughtful as she considered her hands, and then the tree beside her. Intrigued and cautious, she closed the distance between them and placed her hand on its trunk. She waited, watching intently to see if the shimmer would come back; but as the seconds ticked by with no signs, she huffed.

She nibbled at her lip; eyes narrowed in concentration. She pressed her hand harder against the bark, brows dipping low as she searched inside herself for the sun. She closed her eyes.

Almost another minute passed in silence before she felt the first sparking wave run through her. It zipped along her limbs, spreading warmth as it went, and Naruto imagined a river rushing through her, the water pooling in the palms of her hands.

And when Naruto opened her eyes, she could only stare, amazed and bubbling with delight, as the air around her hand began to ripple slightly, like she had seen the stove do when it was hot. The low buzz returned to her ears.

Tentatively, Naruto tugged her hand back. She felt the resistance, like her hand was stuck, before it finally peeled away, easy as anything. She giggled, pressing both of her hands to the bark, then pulling them back once the shimmer returned and tried to stop her.

She stepped back, almost tripping in her haste to reach another tree, then shoved her hands against it. She stretched higher, pushing onto the tips of her toes and her smile only grew when her hands still stuck to the trunk. She dug one of her feet into a groove and hefted herself off the ground, climbing up half a metre before her arms began to tire.

Naruto carefully jumped back down, breath coming fast as the possibilities began to roll forth in her mind.

If—if she could do this with her hands, then surely…

Face creasing in determination, Naruto lifted one of her feet from the ground and placed it against the trunk of the tree. She leaned forward, pressing hard and concentrating with her eyes closed, once again imaging the river but this time having it flowing to her feet instead.

She cracked one eye open when she saw the same strange ripple around her foot. She tested her weight, hopping up and down in place, waiting to see if it would work this way.

Naruto half-squatted, laying her hand on the ground, then pushed herself up. Her second foot smacked against the tree, and there was a heart-wrenching moment when she thought it wouldn't work—but then it _did._

Naruto threw her hand up in excitement, a wordless exclamation erupting out of her, before her feet slipped. She hit the ground with a grunt.

Rubbing at her head she scowled at the tree, already scrambling to her feet to try again.

"Maybe I need more?" She mumbled, then nodded to herself firmly.

She placed her foot on the tree again and pushed more warmth into it, wave after wave, until she swore she could see a haze of blue pulse out from under her sandal. She grinned. "This is—"

The bark under her foot exploded.

**OoO**

Naruto limped back to the orphanage that night, barely making it before curfew. The soles of her feet were rubbed raw and somewhere in the forest a grove of trees was missing chunks of bark. She was covered in dirt and sweat, and she was more exhausted then she had ever been before.

But the smile on her face was wide and proud, because she had managed two steps, and that was more than she could do yesterday.

The carers weren't happy to see her trailing mud and twigs through the hallways, but not even the unmasked scorn on their faces could dampen her spirits.

When they demanded to know what she had been doing, Naruto shrugged and answered.

"Climbing trees."

**OoO**

Her days got more interesting after that.

Naruto would spend whole hours placing her feet against trees, thinking, scowling and muttering to herself as she called upon the warmth again and again; until she could pull it into her hands and feet without a delay.

But no matter what she did, the bark still warped under her feet, sending her shooting backwards and leaving her blistered. She could barely manage three steps before she was thrown away.

She could do it. She _knew _she could do it. The answer was right there, hovering just out of her reach. Naruto knew that all she needed was the one missing thing and she'd get it.

But her failure still ate at her.

_Kinoe would know, _she thought on her fourth straight day of trying. It slipped to the forefront of her mind like a whisper, innocent enough to make her eyes burn.

She picked up the closest thing—a half-rotten branch—and threw it away from her, listening as it cracked against something far sturdier. She sat on the ground, legs pulled to her chest and arms wrapped tight around her knees.

She wiped at her face with dirt-caked hands, uncaring of the mess, and frowned down at her toes. She curled them against the rubber bottom of her shoes.

"I don't need him anyway," she murmured, digging her fingers into the soft earth next to her. "I don't need him, or anybody. I can do it by myself."

She could. She _would._

She just wished sometimes that she didn't _have to._

**OoO**

The loneliness began to creep up on her once more.

Her days were spent running through the forest, full of her self-imposed training; but her nights were all silence and empty rooms. None of the other children wanted to be near her, only daring to taunt her from a distance now. She still wasn't allowed to eat in the hall with everyone else, and the matron would never allow her to move into one of the joint rooms.

She'd forgotten just how alone she was, but now that she knew what having a friend tasted like, it just made the gap between her and everyone else that much wider.

She wanted it back. She wanted to have a friend, someone that she could talk to and play with. She wanted someone who didn't look at her like she was a monster.

Naruto had made a mistake with Kinoe, she knew. Somewhere, somehow, she had done something to push him away. She needed someone stronger than him, someone who would stay through anything.

She had to pick someone like him, but _better._

Naruto hovered by the edges of the grounds, watching silently from the shadows of the trees as the others ran around; measuring each one of them up against a metric she only half understood. But none of them ever came close to matching what she had seen in Kinoe.

Until someone did.

**OoO**

Ami.

They met on a cloudy day, when the orphanage's playground was mostly deserted; only a handful of children braving the evening chill that was beginning to creep into the air.

Naruto had only just returned from her day in the forest, her clothes covered in patches of mud and with leaves tangled in her hair. Her feet were dragging along the dirt path leading up to the main entrance, kicking a stone as she went.

Dully, she noted the voices of some of the others calling out to her, but the words failed to grab her attention. She had long grown deaf to their jeers and insults. Responding only ever enticed them, and Naruto wasn't willing to risk the matron's wrath by defending herself physically—not after what happened with Eiji.

She was intending to just walk past them, to cut through the corner of the playground so that she wouldn't have to walk the whole twisting length of the path, when one noise suddenly rose above the rest. It was a sharp yelp, a sound that didn't belong in the chanting drone of their words, and it snared her focus instantly.

One of the boys was sitting on the ground, his hand cupping his nose. A girl stood over him, her fist clenched, and cheeks flushed with anger. "Don't call her that!" The girl snapped, loud enough that Naruto could hear her clearly. "You guys are just mean! And stupid!"

Naruto tilted her head, curious and confused. As she watched, the girl turned and came running towards her, scowl still on her round face. Naruto watched her approach cautiously, eyes darting from her face to her hands and back again, assessing. She shifted just as the girl came close, ready to run if she needed to.

She was older than Naruto, and pretty with her green eyes and long blonde hair—far paler in colour than her own, but close enough that it made her feel a little less strange.

Naruto didn't recognise her though, which meant she either didn't live at the orphanage like the rest of them, or she was new. Given that children from the village didn't really come into the orphanage grounds, she guessed it was the latter.

"Hi!" The girl chirped, rocking back and forth on her heels. "I'm Ami."

And then she smiled.

Naruto's breath caught.

No one had ever smiled at her like that before, wide and bright and never-ending. Sometimes when she ventured into the village people did—before they realised who she was, and those smiles fell into ugly sneers and vicious words.

Naruto's eyes trailed from the girl to the small crowd of children behind them, and the boy still sitting on the ground. She looked back to Ami, shoulders rising, hands twisting anxiously in her worn shirt.

"I'm Naruto." She told her, still watching for the spark, the recognition. The hate.

Ami's smile widened, a dimple forming on her left cheek. "Wanna be friends?"

And Naruto, Naruto couldn't breathe. In the long moments after Ami spoke, she struggled to pull air into her lungs—because no one, not even Kinoe, had ever asked to be her friend.

She didn't trust herself to speak, didn't trust herself not to ruin it. So, she nodded, her hair falling around her face in a tangled mess.

And Naruto decided, then and there, with all the assurance of a child, that Ami was the one she had been waiting for.

Because Ami had to have heard what the others whispered about Naruto. She had to know that Naruto was different and _weird._ But she didn't care. Didn't care that Naruto was picked on by the others, or about the marks on her cheeks, or that she was covered in mud and leaves from her trips into the forest.

Ami was the nicest person Naruto had ever met, and when she stuck out a hand for Naruto to shake, it felt like absolution.

**OoO**

Later, years and years later, Naruto would look back at herself, to when she was four and so happy that someone finally seemed to want her, and she's laugh and laugh and _laugh _until she screamed, because _she was so fucking naïve back then._

**OoO**

Being friends with Ami was like a dream in a lot of ways.

She was everything that Naruto wasn't, everything she couldn't be. Everything she wanted to be.

Ami was loud where Naruto was quiet, confident where Naruto was withdrawn. She was smiles and laughter and joy, and everyone liked her. She attracted the other children like flies to honey. The carers dotted on her, and the matron was always soft, always kind to her; speaking with sweet words and soothing tones. And Ami basked in the attention, always bright, always happy to talk to anyone that approached.

But it was Naruto she played with. Naruto she spent time with. _Naruto _she favoured.

She didn't know why, but she couldn't deny the warmth that bubbled in her chest whenever Ami picked _her _over the others. It made her feel special, and for the first time it was a _good_ special.

They spent the whole day together, from sunrise to sunset.

Naruto taught Ami things, just like Kinoe had taught her. She showed Ami how to climb trees the easy way, where to place her hands and how to stay stable when the wind picked up. She showed Ami how to sneak into the village, which streets were safe to go down and which it was better to avoid. She showed Ami how to stand still in the forest, how to pet the animals that lived there. She showed Ami her stream, pointing out the deep sections where the water was dark and freezing.

Ami didn't like the forest as much as Naruto did, and she couldn't do some of the things Naruto could. She didn't feel like Kinoe had, or like the shadows did. Ami was a small flame, one Naruto had to really focus to even feel; and she couldn't use it like Naruto used her sun. But that was okay, because Ami still tried, and she listened whenever Naruto brought her there and told her things. And that made all the difference.

In return, Ami taught Naruto different things, stuff she had never had the chance to learn before. She taught Naruto how to brush her hair properly so that the long blonde strands shone; showed her how to tie it back so that it didn't get in her mouth and eyes. She taught Naruto how to curl her hand into a fist and punch, rather than scratch and bite. She taught Naruto how to sew the rips in her clothes so that she didn't have to beg the matron for spares. She even taught Naruto how to say the rhymes the other children sang, and how to use the playground equipment.

Ami taught her a lot of things.

Every minute they spent together was something new and special, and Naruto never wanted it to end.

**OoO**

She didn't see the way Ami's smile sometimes didn't reach her eyes. She didn't see the matron take Ami aside and speak to her, mouth pinched and eyes urgent. She didn't see how as the weeks dragged on Ami stopped talking as much, her green eyes turning sad and unsure whenever she looked at Naruto.

Naruto didn't see any of it, too swept up in her newfound friendship.

**OoO**

It was winter when Naruto's fragile sense of the world shattered yet again.

She remembered everything about that day, and so often wished she didn't.

She remembered the chill that had hung in the air for weeks, how each breath came out like a puff of smoke, and how the tips of her fingers and toes tingled every time she went out. She remembered thinking to herself, looking up at the sky and the clouds, that _it might snow,_ even though she had never seen snow outside of her dreams before. She remembered how the grass crunched under her feet that morning, the dew frozen solid during the night.

She remembered how Ami had stood across from her with slumped shoulders and face cracked with guilt, and said, "I can't be your friend anymore. The matron says you're dangerous and—and that I might not get adopted if I spend time with you."

_I'm sorry,_ she remembered Ami's mouth forming the words, but being unable to hear anything else over the pounding in her ears.

_I'm sorry._

_I'm sorry._

_You're dangerous—I'm sorry._

Naruto remembered turning, running blindly into the forest, trying to get away from the sudden crushing sensation in her chest. She remembered her eyes starting to sting.

She remembered the sun setting, and the trees slowly giving way to a lone stretch of road. She remembered tripping and rolling down the steep hill. She remembered the splash, the _water,_ and the pressing weight of it all around her—in her mouth, her throat, her lungs.

She remembered the black.

**OoO**

Naruto woke in starts and bursts. Light and noise that slowly filtered through, growing in intensity until they finally broke the heaviness ensnaring her mind.

She shifted, face scrunching in discomfort, and she let out a soft, pitiful whimper as her eyes slid open.

Everything was white, bright enough to hurt, and Naruto immediately clamped her eyes shut and twisted away from it. The ache in her chest flared in protest at the sudden movement. She coughed, and then she couldn't seem to stop. It was hard to breathe, like there wasn't enough air and yet _too much _at the same time.

She pushed herself upwards on trembling limbs, eyes watering as she gagged and finally managed to breath in normally. She wanted to be sick.

Naruto wiped at her face, feeling exhausted. Her throat was throbbing and dry. She squinted, looking around the room she was in curiously.

The blanket draped over her was thick and warm, and her clothes were clean, smelling of faintly of soap. Naruto wriggled her toes, watching the lumps move underneath the heavy cover.

She didn't know where she was, and panic lodged itself between her ribs, because the matron was going to be so mad. Naruto hadn't missed curfew in so long, and from the light peeking around the edges of the curtains, she knew it was well passed morning.

She tugged her legs up to her chest, curling forward. How did she even get here? The last thing she remembered was going outside with Ami and—

_I'm sorry._

Naruto pressed her face into her knees, breathing through the blooming hurt in her heart.

_I can't be your friend anymore. I'm sorry._

She closed her eyes.

Dimly, through the ringing echo of Ami's words, she could make out muffled voices. She latched onto the distraction, turning her head to the door, but for all that she tried, she couldn't make out what they were saying. There was a woman though, and she sounded angry. Naruto had long learned to recognise that tone, even if she couldn't understand the words. It made her nervous.

Cautiously, Naruto concentrated, trying to feel if any of the people were familiar to her, but the moment she brushed against their flames she was almost blinded by how bright they were. It reminded her of her shadows, but more and pulsing and _there, _filling the space without restraint. She reeled back, gasping.

The voices outside the room fell silent.

There was a moment of stillness, before the door opened.

Naruto stared at the figure that stood in the doorway. It was a boy, older than her, with dark hair and pale skin. He stood there, watching with heavy eyes that made her insides twist.

He stepped inside quietly, and as he closed the door, Naruto caught sight of the people on the other side. A pretty woman that looked like the boy, and two men, one dressed in dark clothes, and the other in white robes. Then the door shut, and she lost sight of them.

The boy stepped forward, pausing a few feet away from her bed and studying her.

Naruto scanned him in return, taking in his plain but nice clothes, the well-worn but high-quality sandals, his neat hair—before coming to a stop on the metal plate that adorned his forehead. It was secured around his head by a rich blue cloth, and the symbol carved into it reminded her strongly of the wooden leaf Kinoe had given her.

She stared at it, knowing what it meant that this boy wore it.

He was a ninja. Like Kinoe was, like her shadows were, even though they wore masks instead of the headbands. She knew that they protected the village. She knew that they were strong and could do magical things.

Naruto had seen plenty of people wear those headbands before, on the streets whenever she snuck out, but she had never tried to speak to any of them before. She had never dared to, because Kinoe said that ninja fought bad people, and the matron said that they killed monsters, and—

_Monster. Demon. Animal. You're dangerous—I'm sorry._

Naruto shrunk away from the boy, afraid.

His expression barely changed, but when he spoke his voice was quiet and gentle. "Are you alright?"

"Where am I?" She asked instead, voice high and thin.

The boy's hands swayed to his front, clasping them loosely. "You're in the hospital. I brought you here, I wanted to make sure you were alright."

Naruto's legs unfurled under the blanket as she swiftly darted her eyes away from him to study the room. She didn't recognise anything in it, but the smell was starting to irritate her nose. It was similar to the stuff the matron made her use to clean the bathroom at the orphanage.

She rubbed her hand against her nose, as if to wipe the strange scent away.

"Do you remember what happened?" The boy asked, still in the same mild voice.

Naruto looked back to him, then down at her covered legs. She picked at the blanket, swallowed once, twice, then nodded. "I fell," she whispered, "in the water. It was cold."

_I'm sorry,_ she heard.

The boy released a breath that sounded far louder in the silence of the room. "Yes. I was nearby and saw you fall. I got you out of the river and brought you here to be checked on."

Naruto watched him from the corner of her eye, her frown deepening as she took in the brief snatches of emotions on his face. She looked a little closer, and with a jolt, she realised what it was about him that was bothering her.

He wasn't looking at her right.

There was no anger in his eyes. No hints of disgust or hate on his face. Just concern, and maybe something close to kindness if she let herself believe it.

"Would you like something to drink?" He asked suddenly, gesturing to the table beside her, and the jug that sat atop it. Naruto's gaze flickered between him and it. The boy came closer and carefully poured some of the water into the glass cup, then held it out to her.

Naruto took it, absently noting how clean the glass looked. Her hands were shaking.

"Sip slowly," the boy told her, "your throat will be sore."

Still bewildered, Naruto did as he instructed. She brought the cup up, tipping it; but the second the cool water touched her lips, she dropped it. It landed in her lap, spilling all over the sheets and soaking her.

"Are you alright?" The boy asked her again, leaning forward to help. Naruto twitched, and he stepped back to where he had been, hands once more tucked together. Her shoulders loosened.

"I—sorry, 'm shaky," she mumbled, picking up the cup and gripping it tight. Some water still sat at the bottom. She couldn't tear her eyes from it, her vision narrowing down to that small sliver of liquid.

She'd fallen into the river, she knew; could recall the taste of it on her tongue, all through her mouth and down her throat until her chest had felt ready to burst and the darkness had taken her.

_Drowned,_ a corner of her mind said in warning.

She was going to throw up.

"—your hair."

Naruto blinked, the voice cutting through her clogged thoughts and forcing her back into focus. She looked at the boy, "What?"

"It was your hair," he said, the words stilted and odd, like he was suddenly unsure of how to talk, "I saw you fall. Because of it." He paused, mouth opening and closing, before he continued strongly. "It's very pretty."

One of her hands drifted up to her head, tangling some of her hair in her fingers. "I…" She didn't know what to say. No one had ever commented on her hair before, expect when they were making fun of it. "Everyone says it's weird." She blurted out.

The boy frowned severely, eyes dropping to the wooden floor. He looked like he was thinking hard. "What do you say?" He asked.

Naruto, awkward and uncertain, shrugged. She ducked her head, "I—I mean, no one else has hair like mine," she told him, "I looked, but mine's really different. _I'm _different." Her fingers skimmed her cheek before dropping.

The boy was quiet, and Naruto hunched over defensively.

"I don't think there's anything wrong with being different."

Naruto's head snapped up. The boy wasn't looking at her though, his gaze was aimed at the window. "No one is the same," he continued softly, more to himself than to her, but she listened intently. "I think being different is important. Our differences make us who we are, make us unique. But we still have to try and understand each other, otherwise we'll never get better. Otherwise we'll hurt each other."

"People already hurt me," Naruto told him, and his mouth grew tight.

"They shouldn't. It's wrong." He said, and Naruto felt something in her _ache._ She looked down at her hands, at the glass she still clutched, and let those words circle through her thoughts. No one had ever told her that before, that what the matron did to her was _wrong._ It was all she had ever known, and while she'd always wondered why she was treated differently, she'd never considered that the carers weren't doing the right thing.

She shuddered, mind shying away from those thoughts, unable to handle it.

"But, I'm dangerous." She said.

He looked to her; his eyes sad now. "People fear things they don't understand. You have to make them see."

Naruto turned her head away, eyes blurred. She didn't know what to say, but the pain in her chest grew sharper. Desperate, she looked back to him, asking for something she didn't know but that he somehow did.

"I won't harm you. You're safe." He said, and she frowned, not knowing if she could trust those words. But then—

"I promise, Naruto."

_He knows my name,_ she thought, unsettled for all new reasons. Most people she spoke to seemed to know her name—sneered it after her, _Naruto Uzumaki,_ like it was an insult, like the way they said _demon._ But this boy said it simply, like it was her name and nothing more.

Her shoulders lowered and she stared at him in open confusion now. She didn't want to believe him but—

"Really?" She asked, tentative.

The boy tilted his head, then took a step, and another, until he was close enough to hold out his hand to her. As she watched, he extended his little finger, offering.

Her eyes widened. She had seen the other children do this before. Knew what it meant, that it was the strongest promise you could give. And promises were forever.

Naruto _wanted._

Her hand rose, and the door snapped open.

At once, the boy's hand dropped back to his side, his shoulders went tight, and his eyes grew distant. Naruto's own hand fell limp on the bed.

The white robed man stood at the door, his eyes darting between them, before he settled on her. He smiled warmly, "Naruto, it's good to see you awake. You gave us quite the scare." He entered the room, the door left open behind him, and came to a stop beside the boy.

He barely spared him a glance as he spoke, "Your mother and father are waiting for you outside."

The boy bowed, already taking a step away. Naruto watched him go, something she couldn't describe welling in her chest as she looked at the strange fan printed on the back of his shirt. The boy turned once he was outside, hand on the door handle. He caught her eye, held it, then gave a slight smile.

She sighed in relief.

The door slid shut.

Naruto turned to the man, staring up at him, uncomfortable. He was old, with wrinkled skin and the heavy smell of smoke clinging to him. He was watching her closely, and it was like having the weight of every carers' attention on her at once. She cowered slightly, anxious, not at all liking the gaze.

The man blinked, and the feeling vanished. He smiled at her again. "Hello Naruto," he said, voice thick and deep, "do you know who I am?"

Hesitantly, she shook her head.

He hummed, "I am the Hokage. My name is Hiruzen Sarutobi."

* * *

**So, Mikoto is getting angry, and we have a bit more context surrounding Kumo-Minato and how he came to be in Konoha and rise through the ranks to Hokage. We've got Naruto tapping into her chakra (and if anyone says that's unrealistic, this child was shown in the anime to be flipping through Konoha's forests, and in the bloody pilot episode as running over Konoha's rooftops and leaping between walls, which are all things that require chakra. The idea that Naruto didn't know how to manipulate chakra, or even tree walk, before the Wave mission is honestly ridiculous), but not understanding how to use it just yet, or even what it is. We've got Naruto experiencing a different kind of rejection, a softer kind that is just as destructive. We've got little Itachi, and the introduction of Sarutobi.**

**I hope you guys liked it! Let me know your thoughts for this and as always, my tumblr is 'Child_OTKW'.**


	5. Chapter Five

**Righto, chapter five ready to go. Thanks for all the support guys, it's much appreciated.**

**We're going to see yet another example of Konoha, and Sarutobi's **_**breathtakingly**_** poor attempts at raising children in this one, so hope you're all ready for that.**

* * *

Naruto stood quietly beside the old man as he wrote something down on the clipboard that the woman had given him.

Her teeth gnawed at her bottom lip as she waited, and her fingers wound themselves anxiously around the hem of her shirt, creasing it horribly. It was much nicer than anything she had been given at the orphanage; the fabric tight and the seams stiff in a way that told her it was _new._ Like her pants and underwear were.

The lack of any other distinctive scent clinging to her clothes—like the salt of sweat or the taint of blood and grime, pressed so deep into the fibres no amount of soap could ever erase them—was strange, but not uncomfortable. Naruto rather liked knowing that she was the only one to have worn her clothes before. It made them _hers._

She listened with half an ear as the woman behind the desk took back the clipboard and spoke some more to the old man. There seemed to be an never-ending line of people that wanted to talk to him, and Naruto just wanted to go back to her room, curl under her blanket and try and forget the lingering frigid touch of the river and the words that had driven her there.

But the conversation between the two adults carried on, both ignoring her with deliberate ease despite the fact that they were talking about her.

It was fine, though. It was not like she could understand half of what they were saying anyway.

Instead, she stood in place, her gaze listlessly drifting over the large room they were in, studying the long benches and tables scattered about; as well as the people in cream-coloured uniforms that moved around them. The tight knot of tension in her chest was still there, still pulsating, but it began to soften the longer she went unnoticed.

The adults were too busy to pay her any mind, their attention fixed on the paper they were carrying, or engaged in serious conversations as they briskly walked in and out of the area.

And that was fine too. Naruto was used to having eyes look right through her, like she wasn't even there, like she didn't exist—because everyone always seemed desperate to forget that she existed.

The old man shuffled back a step and Naruto's focus rolled and condensed around him before he had even finished the movement. She couldn't stop herself from shifting to the side, balancing on the balls of her feet. When she glanced up, he was already staring back at her. "All taken care of," he told her pleasantly, as if she had any idea what he had even done, "you were given a clean bill of health from the medic. A good night's rest, and you should be perfectly fine."

Naruto, who could still taste the cold rush of water in her mouth and felt her skin prickle at the memory, nodded mutely. She knew she would be fine. She always was.

"Now, perhaps we might go for a walk."

"Why?" Naruto asked, frowning severely. The woman behind the desk made a protesting noise in her throat, leaning over the counter as if to reprimand her. Naruto recognised the look on her face as the same one the matron would wear whenever she talked about disrespect.

Those talks were usually followed by bruises and blood. Naruto's lips curled at the thought.

But the old man merely laughed heartily, his eyes crinkling, and head thrown back. Naruto startled at the sound, because it was warm and amused and kind—and no one who laughed at Naruto had ever done it with such fondness before.

She looked away, uncomfortable.

"Because I wish to talk to you, Naruto. To get to know you." His smile stretched wider, and while a part of Naruto wanted to point out that he hadn't really answered her question, a larger part of her flushed at the clear affection on his face whenever he looked at her. No adult had ever smiled at her like this before.

"Come," the man said, hovering his hand near her shoulder, but not quite bridging the space to actually touch her. His other hand was extended towards the large glass doors.

Gingerly, keeping a wary eye on the hand closest to her, Naruto inched around him and moved for the doors; and she had to resist the urge to bolt the moment they stepped out into the sun. It fell over her face, soft as a caress, beckoning, and some of the lingering coldness in her chest evaporated. She didn't close her eyes, not fully, but she tilted her head up into the warm embrace and breathed.

Beside her, the man slowly stepped down the stone stairs.

Naruto stared at him through slitted, curious eyes. She didn't exactly know what the Hokage was, but she had heard the matron mention the word a few times, and so she knew that it—_he_—was very important. Which meant that she couldn't afford to be too rude, because if she was and word got back to any of the carers, Naruto knew she would be punished. She would have her meals cut again, or have her blanket taken.

Maybe she'd even be put back in the room.

Her entire being quivered at the thought of those damp walls, of the way they loomed over her, always on the verge of consuming her. _Never again,_ she silently vowed, hands clutching at her shirt.

She would never let them put her back in there.

After a long pause, the old man started to walk. Naruto followed him down the stairs and towards the tall wire fence. He kept his steps short, and it was nice not having to run to keep up with someone for once.

Naruto stopped just outside of the gate, nervous. She didn't know the way back to the orphanage from here, having never strayed to this part of the village before. Everywhere she looked were unfamiliar buildings.

She reached out, hesitated for a second, then lightly tugged on the sleeve of his robe. Naruto dropped her hand immediately after and was relieved when the Hokage only looked down at her inquiringly; no anger or annoyance to be seen at her grabbing him. That, more than anything, made the tension in her lessen.

"Are you taking me back to the orphanage?" She asked quietly, dreading but needing the answer.

The man blinked, and that strange gleam in his eyes returned—the same one he'd had back in her hospital room. "No, Naruto." He told her, gentle yet firm, "I wanted to take you to my office to discuss some things. You see that building there, the red one?" He asked suddenly.

Naruto looked down the street that they had yet to fully enter, craning her neck to see over the heads of the people further up the road, until she could make out the top of the building he was pointing at. And instinctively, following the invisible line, Naruto's gaze grazed across the mountain towering above them all.

She had only ever seen it from a distance before, whenever she climbed the trees high enough to break through the canopy; but it was only now that she could see that the bulges protruding out of it weren't bulges at all but faces carved into the rock.

Naruto nodded distractedly in answer to his question, her eyes fastened to those four faces, wondering.

"That is the Hokage Tower," he explained, "that is where my office is. I oversee the whole village from there. Would you like to see? It's quite a sight."

Naruto paused, nails picking at a loose thread, still staring. "Who're they?" She asked, jutting her chin up.

"Ah, those are the Hokage. The carvings are a monument to them, a reminder." He said, voice thoughtful as he too gazed upwards. "Do you know what the Hokage is, Naruto? What they do?"

She shook her head slightly, studying each face in turn, taking in the differences between them with fascination. The third one looked sort of like the man beside her, if she squinted, which made sense if he was the Hokage. But the one next to him—the last in the line—captured her focus.

Naruto tilted her head, an odd sensation growing in her chest the longer she stared, sharp and painful and powerful. It flashed hot and cold, leaving her breathless, and the feeling was so overwhelming that it took her precious seconds to even recognise it.

Anger. Poisonous, dense, unholy anger rolling under her skin, wrapping tight around her bones and _ravaging _her.

"The Hokage is the leader of our village. It is their duty to serve and protect all those that reside within Konoha's walls, to uphold our ideals, and to pass their knowledge onto the next generation." The man spoke softly, his voice enticing, but Naruto could hardly concentrate enough to hear him through the pounding in her ears. "They must do everything they can to keep the village strong, to keep our family safe. Because we are all one family here, Naruto."

A spark of something violent crackled through her at his words. _Family._ She knew what it meant, though she had never experienced it. Knew that family meant warmth, meant_ love _and _belonging._ But Naruto had never known love, and she certainly didn't know belonging. She tried to think of the matron, of the carers and the other children—of Kinoe, of Ami—as family. But it wasn't right. Didn't fit.

Naruto stared up at the stone face gazing down at her. There was something about that face in particular, something about the shape of that jaw, the slope of that nose, that clawed at her, as if trying to bring forth a memory she didn't have. Her lips parted, the smallest glimpse of her teeth showing, and a thought slammed forward, all acidic amusement and brittle, burnt delight so thick she could taste it on her tongue.

_It doesn't even look like him._

Then, all at once, the rage left her. Noise flooded back in and her vision swam, before righting itself with all the abruptness of a smack to the face. Naruto blinked, shaking her head slowly to clear the heaviness.

"Are you alright, Naruto?"

She looked up at the Hokage, dazed. He had an odd expression on his face, concern and something else lurking just behind his eyes.

"I –" she stopped, her hands stinging. Naruto unfurled her fingers and saw the thin, bloodied cuts on her palm from her nails.

He hummed deeply, staring at her hands with a frown. "Nothing too serious," he said after a moment, "no need to bother the medics. Come, we can get you cleaned up at my office." He waved for her to follow once more, and Naruto, for lack of any other option, hurried after him.

There were a lot of people out, more than she had seen in one place before. They were bustling from store to store, the multitude of voices all wrapped into one continuous buzz. Naruto squirmed at being so exposed. Normally, she stuck to the shadows, darting between the lesser travelled streets and alleyways to get around. She had never walked down a main road before, and her gut clenched with unease.

She didn't have too many good memories of her adventures into the village, hated the way the people stared at her whenever they saw her. The whispers and sneers she could never outrun. But this time she couldn't help but notice how different everyone was acting.

The crowd was parting around them, and everyone that they passed stopped and bowed to the old man, their eyes lowered and polite greetings on their lips. Naruto stared at them as they walked, baffled.

No one was glaring at her, even when their eyes slid onto her tiny figure. She could still see their disdain, could smell the way their scents soured when they spotted her, but they all turned away.

No one scowled. No one called her names. No one knocked into her or tripped her.

Utterly amazed, she looked back to the Hokage. It had to be him, after all. He was doing something to stop everyone from being mean to her, and Naruto wanted to know. "How're you doing that?" She asked, _demanded,_ speeding up to walk alongside him.

He smiled down at her, the gentle curl of his lips seeming to never leave his face. "I am the Hokage, Naruto. I am responsible for many things in the running of the village. The people merely like to show me their respect."

She looked down at her sandals. "They're nice to you because you're Hokage?" She asked carefully, thinking.

He laughed quietly, but like before, it didn't sound like it was aimed at her. "That's one way to put it, I suppose. It is a hard role, but the reward of seeing my home flourish makes it more than worth it. Many shinobi aspire to be Hokage, they spend their whole careers striving for the position, but few are ever given the honour."

Naruto pursed her lips, her frown deepening as she went over what he had said. The old man seemed happy to let her be, humming under his breath, his hands tucked behind his back comfortably.

After another minute, they cleared the heavy crowd and came out near the base of the tall red building that he had shown her earlier.

Naruto looked up at it, to the carved faces beyond it, down to the man beside her, then over her shoulder at the throng of people behind them. She thought about the matron, of the other children at the orphanage and the way they hated her. She thought about Kinoe, who was kind but who still _left._ She thought of Ami, of _you're dangerous, I'm sorry._ She thought of the nice boy in the hospital room, his words of comfort and clarity.

Naruto thought of the old man, and how everyone looked at him with respect. How they bowed for him and said _Lord Hokage _with such awe.

She looked down at her hands, at the marks that were no longer there, and made a soft noise in the back of her throat. "Hokage." She whispered to herself, letting her lips form the word slowly, testing it and the way it sat in her mouth.

She completely missed the satisfaction that bled into the old eyes watching her.

"Shall we head up?" He asked, "We have a lot to discuss, after all."

Naruto grimaced, hunching her shoulders uncertainly. "About what? The matron…" she started to say but trailed off, unsure of how to word her question.

He answered her anyway, "She is no longer a concern of yours, Naruto." He said it gently, but now there was a trace of anger in his voice that had her leaning away. "You will not be returning to the orphanage. Please," he gestured towards the gates, "I will explain it all when we get to my office."

_Not going back? _Naruto started walking again, her eyes wide and her mind trying to wrap itself around the concept. _I'm not going back there?_

The orphanage was all she had ever known, and while she had longed to leave it for years, she'd never really thought that she would. It wasn't a nice place, but it was where she slept, where she played. It had the forest, and the animals, and her little box of treasures. If she wasn't going back, then where would she live?

Thoughts swirling, she trailed after the Hokage as they entered the tower and began climbing the staircase. She ignored the people working around her.

Was she _not _going to live somewhere? The matron had always told her that she should be grateful for having a place to sleep—had told her stories of people that didn't have homes to go to, and that that was what would happen to Naruto if she was bad. She would be discarded, thrown out into the streets.

And Naruto knew that she had been very bad recently. She had run away, had missed curfew. She'd drawn so much attention, made enough of a mess that the Hokage had been called. It was no wonder she wouldn't be taken back to the orphanage.

Fear settled heavy in her gut.

The old man had said that the Hokage protected the village, that they were all a family—but did that include Naruto? Everyone had always said she wasn't wanted, that she didn't belong. Was he going to tell her that she wasn't allowed to sleep _anywhere _now?

_Maybe I could live in the forest,_ she thought, biting her lip.

Naruto had tried that a few times, and with all the tricks that Kinoe had taught her, she was sure she'd be fine. The animals all liked her, and she wouldn't be bothering anyone anymore. It was a solid idea, she decided. She'd have to tell him when they got to his office.

There was no way he'd tell her no, not when it would solve all their problems.

She nodded, resolute, and looked up in time to see them come into a curved hallway. As they walked, Naruto's head swivelled, taking in everything she could curiously. On one side, the wall was decorated with long pieces of cloth with black lines covering them; and with framed pictures of different places on the other. The air was warm too, warmer than the orphanage ever was at this time of year.

They finally reached a lone door, with two people standing on either side. Naruto blinked, tilting her head to stare up at them. They wore the same uniforms that her shadows did, though their masks were far prettier. One looked like a bird, with the jut of a small beak showing, and thick red paint around the eye holes the looped down to run along the edges of the mouth.

That one's head slanted down to watch her as she passed. Naruto awkwardly gave the man a smile, because while her shadows had never been nice, they had never been cruel. Not like others were.

The guard gave her a small nod before his focus shifted back to the opposite wall.

Happy at the brief acknowledgement, Naruto trotted into the Hokage's office, glancing back as the door was pulled shut behind her. The Hokage waved her towards one of the seats in front of the desk, while he circled to sit on the other side, his back to the large windows.

Naruto clambered up, her short legs hanging limply as the old man moved some things around before resting his elbows on the desk, steepling his fingers, and looking at her. "Now, Naruto, we need to talk about where you will be staying from this point on."

She readied herself, opening her mouth to speak, but he continued before she could.

"It has been decided that you will be moved out of the orphanage and given your own home—an apartment in the eastern district. It's modest, but I'm sure that it will be well suited to you." He paused, and Naruto barely had enough time to begin to understand what he had just told her, when he reached down and pulled up a simple bag. "I took the liberty of having one of my men collect your things from your…room." Here, his eyes lost their kind spark, and he suddenly looked very tired.

Naruto, feeling like she was in trouble but not knowing why, shrunk back. She was still trying to process what he'd said—about her getting a _home,_ a place that was only _hers._ She didn't know what to say, or how to react. She'd never thought she would have a place to call home, never considered it beyond vague dreams and a deep longing in her heart.

The Hokage sighed, breaking her out of her stupor. "I am…sorry, Naruto. I fear that I may have indirectly caused you a great deal of hardship over the years."

She frowned, confused. She had never even seen the Hokage before in her life, so she didn't know how he could have done anything to hurt her.

"I had thought that the orphanage would be a safe place for you growing up, but I can see now that I was mistaken. I wanted to give you some semblance of a normal childhood, surrounded by others your own age. I had never thought that things would deteriorate as they did." He shook his head sadly, and Naruto couldn't look away, no matter how uncomfortable the rawness on his face made her feel. "You never should have endured what you had, but I hope that I can make it up to you now."

This was the second time someone had said that to her today. First, the boy, with his soft eyes and mouth and words. And now the Hokage, the leader of the village, had said the same.

Naruto didn't know what to do with that.

The Hokage pushed the bag over to her side of the desk, but she made no move to grab it yet, even though her fingers itched to check over her things. "Once we move you into your new home, you will be given a monthly allowance to use how you see fit. You won't need to worry about furniture or paying for the utilities, but it is expected that you won't damage the apartment and that you follow the rules. The landlady in charge of the unit will check on you weekly, but if you have any issues, you are free to go to her and ask for help."

He smiled at her once more, "I have also had someone pick out some new clothes for you—they should all be waiting for you in your apartment." His eyes darted behind her, "Hawk!"

Naruto twitched at the sudden call, then again when a figure just appeared next to the desk without a sound. As he straightened from his bow, she saw that he was the same guard that had nodded at her when she had entered.

"I'd like you to take Naruto to her new apartment. Get her settled in for me," the old man glanced at her encouragingly, "I would go with you myself, but unfortunately, I have several meetings coming up, and I can't get away. But Hawk here will ensure that you are well looked after."

"I –" Naruto opened her mouth, thrown and bewildered, struggling to keep up with the quick turn of their conversation. She glanced between the two men rapidly, trying to order her thoughts. But before she spoke, she studied the Hokage. She saw the deep lines cut into his face, and the distracted air around him, as if his thoughts were already drifting to another matter.

_He's busy,_ she realised. It made sense. If he was in charge of everything, he wouldn't have much time to talk. So, instead of letting all her questions bubble forth, she simply whispered, "Thank you."

Manners had been one of the first lessons the matron taught her.

The Hokage nodded at her, eyes brightening a little. "You are very welcome. I will stop by to see you soon, Naruto. Now, go with Hawk, he will look after you."

Naruto slid off her seat.

The masked man—Hawk—bowed politely. "Lord Hokage," he said in farewell, reaching out to pluck her bag from the desk. He turned to face Naruto and gestured at the door, and Naruto scrambled to follow him. She looked back just as the door closed, but the Hokage was already focussed on the papers before him.

It was only as the lock clicked in place that she realised he had never shown her the view. Naruto stared at the wooden door for a long moment, disappointed but not surprised, before looking up to the masked man. He felt a lot like Kinoe had, peaceful and bright.

"Come on, kid," Hawk said, holding out a hand to her, "I can get us across the village a bit faster. Saves us walking."

Naruto squinted at his gloved hand suspiciously. She didn't normally like touching people—touching adults—because they always seemed to want to hurt her. But the masked people were different. They might have picked her up and carted her back to the orphanage whenever she'd run, but they had never harmed her.

And, she noted, this one was offering, rather than just grabbing her.

Naruto took his hand, caution twining along every line of her body. His hand completely enclosed hers, yet the grip remained loose. "Hold on, this might feel weird." He warned.

It was like the ground disappeared beneath her feet, and Naruto swore she felt an arm wrap around her, pulling her against something big and warm. Before she could panic, there was a big gust of wind, and then she was standing somewhere else.

Naruto stumbled, only staying upright thanks to the hand still clutching hers. She groaned, eyes watering. "You're okay," Hawk said, kneeling next to her, "it'll pass in a few seconds. First flicker always makes you want to hurl," he chuckled, the noise soft like a secret.

Her feet settled and after a moment the rolling in her stomach calmed. "What was that?" She asked, spinning around to peer into the holes of his mask. This close, she could see the brown eyes beneath crinkle with what had to be a smile.

"Ninjutsu," he told her easily, "you'll learn about it when you get to the academy." Hawk stood up, tapping his knuckles on the door before them. "This here is your apartment, you're on the top floor. I'll take you for a tour around the building in a bit, so you know the area, but we'll get you inside and set up first."

He slid a key into the lock and held the door open for her. Naruto leaned to the side, gazing into the hallway beyond, eyes wide. With a quick glance at Hawk, who nodded, she inched inside.

Her apartment.

Naruto came into an open area with a table, some chairs, and a small kitchen—and had to hold back her desperate need to run her fingers over everything just to prove it was real. She stepped around the table and moved to the opening on the other side, guiltily letting her hand trace along the blank wall as she went.

She found some storage spaces, and a bathroom, and finally, the bedroom. Naruto saw the bundles of folded clothes on the bed—a _proper _bed, with heavy blankets and a thick mattress—and had to lean against the doorway when her legs suddenly felt weak.

Naruto stood on the threshold of the room for a long time, a lump growing in her throat.

_Mine,_ she thought, _it's all mine. My home._

It took some minutes before she could pull herself away and back to the dining area, her feet dragging lightly. Naruto looked at Hawk, the man was only just inside the front door, waiting patiently with the bag that the Hokage had said was holding her things.

He held it out to her, and Naruto gripped it tight to her chest, eyes fixed on the zipper intensely.

"You alright with it all?" Hawk asked, "Find everything okay? Do you have any questions before we get started?"

Naruto frowned, fingers fiddling with one of the bag's straps. She thought back over everything that the Hokage had told her, everything that she had seen in her new home, then glanced up at Hawk beseechingly.

"What're 'utilities'?"

**OoO**

Genma sighed, slumped on one of the benches in the change rooms.

He ran one of his hands over his face and dug into his eyes, as if the pressure could somehow erase the image of Naruto Uzumaki from his memories.

He'd had a few ideas of what Minato and Kushina's kid would be like—had watched with unconcealed amusement whenever his Hokage and the man's temperamental wife had bickered over who the child would take after more—but the reality was nothing he could have prepared himself for.

The way she'd looked at him, with confusion and mistrust and fear in her blue eyes—_his Hokage's eyes_—was like a stab to the gut.

She'd been so _small._

"Fuck." He whispered into his palm, unable to forget how she'd frozen in his arms when he'd transported them. _"Fuck."_

And her room at the orphanage—_if it could even be called that._ It'd been barely more than a cleared-out closet with a cot shoved in. Genma had had to restrain himself from walking right back down those stairs and murdering every single person in that building when he'd seen where she'd been kept.

He had known that Naruto wouldn't have an easy life. Even Kushina, whose status as jinchuuriki was a closely guarded secret, had had her fair share of trouble; but they might as well have had Naruto sleeping in a goddamn cage.

What the hell had the Hokage been thinking, leaving Naruto with a bunch of civilians? Civilians that lacked any spark of decency, let alone the inherent understanding of what a jinchuuriki was. She should have been raised by shinobi, by people that could tell the difference between the Kyuubi and the little girl housing it.

His hands didn't shake, but he could feel the familiar itch under his skin.

Genma remembered Hisa, remembered how damn smug the woman had been after being charged with Naruto's wellbeing. How she'd lauded it over the rest of the guards whenever the opportunity arose. He remembered the numb feeling of shock at hearing about her death, and the anger when each of their offers to take Naruto in were rejected, one after the other.

_They said she'd be safe, _he thought, and felt like a fool for ever believing them. Naruto hadn't been safe since the moment her parents died, and Genma's mouth tasted like ash.

It was worse though, because now they were putting Naruto in an apartment, all alone, with the barest amount of supervision and absolutely no support. And sure, Genma could name dozens of people off the top of his head that had been living alone from when they were her age—all of them excellent shinobi, all of them incredibly powerful, but all of them also undeniably fucked up individuals.

Minato's daughter deserved more, hell, anyone deserved more than this. Things were supposed to be _different _now. _Konoha _was supposed to be different. _Better._

He wanted to help her so badly it hurt, but there was only so much he could do.

There were orders, so many orders surrounding Naruto—_don't interact, don't interfere, don't engage, don't, don't, _don't—each one a shackle holding them back. And despite how strong the urge was to just disregard it, to do it anyway, to _tell her the truth,_ Genma knew the punishment.  
Incarceration for civilians. Execution for shinobi.

He couldn't help her if he was dead. But Genma couldn't leave her alone like that, he had to keep an eye on her, on Minato's girl, even if only from a distance. To be ready to defend her if the need arose. He needed to talk to the general, maybe see if they could add another loop to their eastern patrol, something that ran by Naruto's apartment.  
It wouldn't be enough, but at least it'd be something.

"You good, Shiranui?"

Genma looked up as Riku walked in, the man tugging his mask off and placing it on the hook in his locker.

"Fine," he answered, "just a rough day."

"Weren't you on door duty?" Riku asked, preoccupied with undoing his vest. He was covered in dust, probably just back from border patrol if Genma was remembering the roster right. He had thought it was too quiet lately. "Not exactly the hardest job on rotation."

"It wasn't that," he said, leaning back and staring at the ceiling, gathering his composure. He hadn't been this rattled in a long time.

"Then what is it?"

Genma liked Riku. He was competent considering how recent he was promoted, but he was also one of the nosiest bastards in their division. Genma knew he shouldn't talk about it, not with someone so fresh, someone who hadn't served under Minato and that might not know the connection between their previous Hokage and their new jinchuuriki, but the events of the day were weighing on him.

"It's just—" A flash of silver caught his eye, and Genma's mouth snapped shut.

He and Riku stopped what they were doing, both watching from the corners of their eyes as Kakashi slipped into the room, the man splattered with blood and mud and looking an inch from death.

Any mention of Naruto died on Genma's tongue.

They didn't—they didn't _talk _about her around Kakashi. They didn't talk about Minato, or Kushina, or that night either.

They all knew how close to the edge Kakashi was these days, and none of them wanted to be the one that pushed him over.

Self-destruction was, Genma knew, a brutal thing to watch. It was one of the cruellest parts of their lives, not being able to help a friend who desperately needed it. To know that any offer of assistance would be met with contempt at best, and a dead-eyed, empty stare at worst.

It felt like they were all just waiting at this point. Waiting for the day Kakashi finally succeeded in killing himself and getting the punishment he seemed to think he deserved.

More than once they had petitioned the Hokage to take Kakashi off active duty, to force him to just _stop _for once; but after the man had almost killed himself playing around with experimental jutsu, they had backed off. Horrible as it was, at least being in anbu was a productive suicidal endeavour.

Genma carefully kept his gaze pinned on the wall as Kakashi silently stripped and headed for the showers without acknowledging either of them. His movements were mechanical down to the smallest twitch of his muscles.

The second he was gone it was as if all the oxygen returned to the room. Across from him, Riku's shoulders were curved under an invisible weight.

Genma hunched forward, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Fuck."

**OoO**

Living alone was an exercise in intuition and determination.

And so much harder than she had expected.

Naruto had grown used to the sheer amount of noise that constantly swelled inside the orphanage; where even in the dead of night she could make out the shuffling of blankets and the soft whisper of breaths.

There were no stomping footsteps in her new home, no old pipes that shook the walls whenever a tap was used. And instead of the comforting hum of the forest, all she could hear when she opened her windows was the bustle of people as they moved along the street below.

It was quiet in her apartment, still, and there was no one around to tell her what to do or when to go to bed or what to eat, and Naruto _floundered _at the realisation that she was now in charge of her life. It was jarring, because even though the carers had let her go into the forest most days, there had always been chores she had to do, always orders she had to follow.

Now there was nothing. No strict rules to adhere to, no chores list to complete, and the sudden concept of freedom terrified and intrigued her in ways she couldn't describe.

But more than anything, it was the loneliness that bothered her. It seemed even here, in the middle of the village, Naruto was still alone.

There was the landlady, of course. An older woman, blind in one eye but sharp as a knife as she explained to Naruto what was expected of her on that first day, just after Hawk left. She'd listened as attentively as she could while the woman tossed around words like _lease _and _inspections _and didn't seem to realise that Naruto hardly understood what she was saying.

That was okay, though, because the lady also showed Naruto how to use the stove, pushing a stool over for her so that she could watch. The lady showed her where everything in the kitchen was located, and the ingredients, and how to make a few basic meals.

And she introduced her to the kettle.

The orphanage hadn't had one of those, not that Naruto had ever seen, and she'd watched with fascination as the water inside it had bubbled cheerily. Tea, she also found, wasn't as good as adults always made it seem; but Naruto could admit that she liked the smell of the leaves brewing. It covered the scent of fresh paint and made the air taste sweeter.

She had also been given another set of keys to her apartment, tied onto the end of a leather cord, and was told to always keep her door locked, even when she was home. She was only supposed to open the door if it was someone she knew.

Naruto, only four but already fiercely protective of anything she deemed _hers,_ took the advice seriously. This apartment was given to her. These walls, this furniture, the clothes—it was all hers now, and no one would step foot inside her home without her permission.

She looped the cord around her neck, shifting it so that the small key hung low on her chest, and pressed her hand over it until it was warm and the indent of it marked her skin.

After that, the landlady had left, promising to return next week with some groceries for her.

And Naruto was, once more, left alone.

**OoO**

Naruto spent the first night curled up tight in her new bed, nose buried in her old blanket because it was the one familiar thing in her new, unknown world. She only fell asleep in the hours before the sun began to peek over the horizon.

Her dreams that night were more confusing than usual. Not-quite nightmares danced beneath her lids, with shadows that splayed up from under her bed, painting themselves on the walls and writhing as if they were alive. Sometimes, they looked like people, other times like animals with teeth and claws—but regardless of their shape they were always large and angry and loud.

She dreamed of Ami, of her words that cut deep. Whispers of _you're dangerous _joining the parade of similar things she had been called over the years; names and taunts collected like bruises, only they never faded. _Demon. Monster. Animal._

But there was another voice too, a new one that broke through the pain like a streak of sunlight.

_I don't think there's anything wrong with being different, _the memory of the boy told her, his words encompassing her, drowning out anything else.

_It's wrong,_ she heard, and the ache in her chest eased just slightly. _It's wrong. They shouldn't._

Naruto slipped into a deeper sleep, falling beyond where the nightmares could reach with those words cradled close to her chest and _you have to make them see _burning across her heart.

**OoO**

When Naruto woke, it was with a light chest and a heavy head. She stayed curled in her bed, watching with bleary eyes as the room slowly brightened, the bland walls turning a sweet shade of pale yellow.

It was only at the prompting of her stomach that she rolled out of bed, stumbling her way to the kitchen.

She spent half an hour blundering between pots and dragging her stool behind her, trying to remember how to cook some breakfast, like the landlady had shown her yesterday.

Naruto ended up with a bowl of soggy rice, and an already healing burn on her hand from where she had accidentally brushed the stovetop.

She ate every single grain, and for the first time in her memory, she didn't feel hungry afterwards.

Naruto then spent three hours going through her new clothes, marvelling at how clean everything was. She slipped each piece on so she could stare at herself in the mirror, twisting this way and that, nearly vibrating with excitement.

Naruto traced her fingers over the bright red spiral that adorned the back of every one of her shirts, curious. It was oddly familiar to her, and something about the symbol made a chord in her chest _thrum._ She followed the black thread marking the outline of its curve, and tried to chase the sensation of loss that seeing it invoked.

But it kept slipping away, always just out of reach.

**OoO**

Naruto lasted three days before the need to leave overwhelmed her.

The apartment was larger than her old room by far, but it was still contained, still stifling after all the time Naruto had spent exploring the sprawling forest. She had already mapped out every room, had already reorganised the furniture and spread her meagre possessions throughout her bedroom.

She was grateful for her new home, grateful to be taken away from the orphanage and the matron; but Naruto longed for the trees and the grass and the animals.

So, dressed in her new clothes, she left her apartment, locked the door, and set off to find the forest.

* * *

**Anyone picking up on my absolute **_**contempt**_** for Sarutobi yet? It's like the man sees a traumatised, abused child and goes "you know what's a great idea? Let's give them an apartment and zero emotional support or supervision. I'm so good at this, ten points to me."**

**But along that note, Konoha as a military village has such a dark undertone to it, when you stop to think. This is a village and society that breeds children to be weapons and trains them to kill. They've only just come off a war, and the Kyuubi attack, and without Minato to provide them with a smooth transition into a softer kind of existence, one of peace, instead Sarutobi has driven it right back to their previous military mindset because he thinks that's what will help them recover. They don't care for their mental or emotional well being, because their lifespans are so short, and who honestly cares how traumatised your ninja are, so long as they preform well on missions? I really feel for Naruto's generation, because the fissure is so freaking huge between them and the older shinobi.**

**But anyway, enough rambling. Hope you guys enjoyed this chapter, next we'll be moving into the pre-academy and academy days, which will be fun! Let me know your thoughts and as always, my tumblr is 'Child_OTKW'. Thanks guys!**


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